Love After Life
by Demosthenes23
Summary: Lexa Woods has the power to bring the dead back to life. When her estranged childhood sweetheart dies, she doesn't hesitate to act. But at what cost? Or that Pushing Daisies/the 100 AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: For those of you who have never seen Pushing Daisies (I'm assuming most of you): it's not a prerequisite before reading this. Pushing Daisies is basically like a really long crack fic, where nothing is taken too seriously, everyone is eccentric, there's lots of adorable moments, some singing and minimal angst. This fic however, didn't turn out quite as silly as I was imagining, so it's more like moderate angst. Anyway, if you have the inclination, you should check out the pilot.**

* * *

At this very moment, Lexa Woods was serving her last customer of the day, an elderly woman by the name of Francis Miller. Ms Miller reminded Lexa greatly of the sweet old woman who had run this store before her, and who had bequeathed it to Lexa upon her death. From early on Lexa had learned the horticultural trade from her father, Gustus. They would spend hours in the garden every day, dutifully tending to their charges. She had taken to it like a bee to honey, blessed with one of the finest green thumbs the town of Arkadia had ever seen.

Costia Greene was Lexa's assistant and apprentice, and rather infatuated with her. Costia was far from being a shrinking violet, and as such, she took many a private opportunity to let Lexa know just _how_ infatuated she was. As Lexa turned the closed sign around, she could feel her presence. Not in an ominous way exactly, though Lexa did steady herself before facing the persistent girl.

"You got any plans for tonight?" asked Costia, standing one foot and five inches away.

Lexa gulped at the question and the hopeful (and seductive) glint in Costia's eye. She took a step closer but did not touch Lexa. From a young age, Lexa had been uncomfortable with touch, but not perhaps for the reasons you may be supposing.

"'Cause you look like you could use a drink, and I know the _perfect_ place within walking distance."

Lexa highly suspected this perfect place was Costia's apartment, a place Lexa had only dared venture once before. After she found the drawing Miss Greene had made of her, a somewhat risque number, Lexa had decided never to go there again. Lexa was not afraid of Costia because her behaviour occasionally bordered on sexual harassment, but rather that she had begun to develop feelings of her own, something she vowed she would never do again. So far, playing oblivious to Costia's blatant attempts at seduction had worked to keep her at bay.

"I don't drink," she replied simply.

This was true. Lexa Woods did not drink. Loose lips would not do with someone like her.

"Oh, okay," muttered the crestfallen woman. "I just thought maybe...nevermind."

The back door to Grounders chimed closed upon Miss Greene's departure. A few moments later they chimed again, this time admitting one Raven Reyes, an ex-military brat who had been honourably discharged for an incident involving a bottle of moonshine, a tub of butter, and an explosion in the quartermasters quarters. Upon re-entry into civilian life, she had settled down as a private investigator, a fairly lucrative business if you knew where to look.

Raven leaned back against the door, her braced leg resting slightly forward. Against her hip an M9 was holstered. Weapons - guns in particular - made Lexa anxious, but Raven refused to go anywhere without her trusty sidekick.

Raven glanced down at Lexa's abnormally long and slender fingers, which were peaking around folded arms. "When you gonna give that poor girl a nice long bone?"

Lexa scowled at the lewd comment, positioning her hands behind her back. "Charming, as ever."

Raven shrugged, a smirk across her face. "I'm just sayin'. She's hot. You're hot. What's the problem?"

The problem was as follows:

Lexa Woods fell in love with a girl named Clarke nineteen years, thirty-three weeks, five days, eight hours and twelve minutes ago. She was wearing daisies in her braided hair, daisies Lexa had grown herself. Her blue eyes were animated by the wonder that had just been performed. She was the prettiest thing Lexa had seen thus far in her short life, and her heart was overflowing with the deepest of adoration. In a fit of ecstatic endearment, Clarke hugged and kissed Lexa on the cheek, proclaiming them friends forever. Tiny Pauna, Clarke's caramel haired Abyssinian guinea pig, was similarly thrilled. For you see, Lexa wasn't like all the other little girls and boys.

She could bring the dead back to life.

"You know," murmured Lexa. Before Raven could protest the oft repeated argument, she added, "It wouldn't be professional to have sex with my only employee."

"So fire her then."

 _Yes, because that would surely be appealing..._

Lexa frowned at Raven. "Despite her questionable private behaviour, she's an excellent assistant, indispensable to my business."

"And how much you paying this," Raven did air quotes, " _indispensable_ assistant of yours?"

Staring at a black spot of soil on the floor she replied, "The budget has been tight lately, I admit, but-"

"You do realize that you're taking advantage of her feelings for you, right?"

Lexa frowned further at the accurate assessment.

"You can't keep living in the past, Lexa. Go out with Costia, just once. See what happens. You might be surprised. You might actually enjoy yourself. You do remember fun, right?" Raven sighed at the lack of response. "When's the last time you got laid, anyway? One or ten years ago?"

Lexa flushed slightly causing Raven to smirk. "Why are you here, Raven?" she inadvertently snapped.

Sticking her hand inside of her red leather jacket, she pulled out her wallet and retrieved several hundred dollar bills. Then she strode over the few paces to Lexa and shoved them in her blouse pocket. "Thought you'd like to make a few bucks."

"Oh no," protested Lexa, with a raised hand, "I'm not doing _that_ again. I only helped you the last time because there was a pyromaniac on the loose. I've heard of no such person in recent days, ergo, you don't need my help."

"You helped me last time because there was a twenty thousand dollar reward which I graciously split down the middle." She hooked a thumb towards the back lot, where a new automated watering system could be heard performing its duties. "Nice investment by the way."

Lexa flushed a similar shade to that of the roses in the display window.

Raven smirked again. "As an added bonus, I won't make any jabs at your pathetic love life for a whole week."

"Fine," grumbled Lexa, grabbing her long black coat and gloves. She liked to be covered thoroughly at all times. It reduced the chances of unwanted touching. "Let's get this over with."

They got into Raven's crimson Tesla Model S. Say what you will about Raven Reyes, at least she was environmentally sound, past bombs not withstanding. Classic rock played quietly in the background as they made their way to the morgue. A few minutes into the drive Lexa asked about the particulars regarding the case.

"A woman was murdered outside her apartment late last night. Strangled to death. The police think it was her ex-boyfriend. He was one of those obsessive, stalker-ish guys who wouldn't take no for an answer. She even had a restraining order against him. Not that it did her any good."

When you've been alone for a long time, you tend to lower your standards and make allowances for odd, potentially harmful behaviour, and maybe even fancy yourself in love. Of course Lexa didn't _think_ Costia would ever harm her physically if she were to flat out reject her - the woman made sure to never touch her again after the first time Lexa told her it made her uncomfortable - it was impossible to say for sure.

Lexa shifted in her seat before saying, "That's terrible. Where do we come in? Who hired you?"

"No one hired me."

"What do you mean?" Lexa frowned, staring down at the bills still in her blouse. "Why are we going to the morgue if no one hired you?" Casting a suspicious eye on her friend, "We _are_ going to the morgue, aren't we?"

Raven didn't immediately respond. Then she sighed and pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the music. In an uncharacteristically sensitive manner, Raven turned to her with pitying eyes and took her hand. Curiousity and dread blossomed within.

"There's no easy way to say this," said Raven softly, "so I'll just say it. The woman who was killed...it's Clarke."

Eight hundred and sixty-four things passed through Lexa's mind in that moment, most of which were some variation of, god no, and why me? Then her churning brain postulated there were any number of similar looking people in the city. It was a big place. There were seven million, three hundred and thirty-two thousand, five hundred and one people currently living in Polis. Mistaken identity happened all the time. The dead girl wasn't necessarily-

"Who I.D.d her?" Lexa managed somehow, body tremulous and in disbelief.

"Her mother went down to the morgue a few hours ago. Abby positively I.D.d her daughter." Raven squeezed her hand. "I just thought you'd like to say goodbye before they performed the autopsy."

Lexa swallowed hard through the lump in her throat. "Take me to her," she all but whispered.

Raven nodded grimly and restarted the vehicle, a disturbingly quiet silence enveloping them. Twenty minutes later Lexa found herself moving on autopilot through the back entrance to the morgue, barely registering Raven slipping a few twenties to the attendant who was unabashedly staring at her chest and the hundreds peeking out of her pocket.

"She's in slot six," he informed them in a bored manner before returning to his seat to play on his phone. "You've got ten minutes."

They stood in front of the designated slot, just staring at it. Lexa's head was spinning and she felt very close to vomiting, which was fortunate since there was a drain in the floor. She didn't want to think about the types of things that went down there. Being surrounded by dead people gave Lexa the heebie jeebie's...she always felt as though they were calling out to her to bring them back, an urge she had to fight to control. In her dreams however, she usually succumbed, and there were no consequences and everyone was just happy and alive.

"Whenever you're ready," said Raven gently. "Screw the time limit."

If only it were that easy.

Tiny Pauna's joy lasted for precisely forty-seven seconds when he nuzzled Lexa's hand and promptly dropped dead again. Both girls stared in abject horror at the cruelty of Lexa's gift. One touch brought life, the second brought death...forever.

When her stomach had settled slightly, she nodded to Raven, who opened the cold, chrome door and slowly wheeled out the body covered in a thin white sheet. If this was indeed Clarke, she had certainly...changed since Lexa had last seen her. Raven was saying something to her but Lexa didn't hear her. Her whole world was narrowed down to this one white sheet and what laid beneath it. Steeling herself further, she pulled the veil back. Tangled blonde hair greeted her. As well as a set of unseeing eyes, which may have been the same shade she recalled in life, but was slightly off kilter in death. Without that indefinable spark present, it could only be a poor imitation of the real deal. Thankfully that spark resided in her finger tip.

She looked over at Raven, who was watching her reaction, rather than looking at the body. "Do you think maybe I could do this alone?"

Raven ran her fingers through her hair. "I don't know, Lexa...that might not be the best idea-"

"Please. I need to do this by myself. I'd rather not have any distractions before..." she gulped, "before it's done."

"Okay," she said placing a hand on her shoulder. "Just make sure to keep track of the time."

Once the double swinging doors had come to a halt, Lexa took the opportunity to stroke the woman's hair and face for a few seconds, tracing down to the slight cleft of her chin. She winced as she ran her fingers over the discoloured welt across her neck, the result of what appeared to be a belt. The idea that someone would inflict such brutality on such a caring woman angered Lexa greatly. But now was not the time for hatred towards Clarke's killer, there would be time for that later.

Keeping her emotions locked securely in the recesses of her heart, Lexa pulled off one of her gloves and touched the woman's cheek, a pleasant surge of warmth lingering. The previously pallid woman immediately jolted upright, as if shocked by paddles, as if her heart had only momentarily stopped beating. Because of this sudden movement, the sheet slid down her torso, revealing ample breasts that Lexa really should not be staring at, and promptly screwed her eyes shut.

Fighting the flush creeping up her neck she said, "Hello, my name is-"

"Lexa?" said the woman, her voice much deeper and sultrier than Lexa recalled. The wonders of puberty.

"How...how do you know who I am?" she stammered, rather taken aback. Did she still look like a lanky eleven year old girl?

A husky chuckle came in response, one that caused an unasked for shiver. "I only know one person who can command death."

"Right," replied Lexa, feeling slow witted, among other things.

"You can look now," said Clarke, clearly amused.

Why was she so damn cheerful?

Hazarding one eye open, she found that Clarke was now propped up on an elbow, holding the sheet in place. Opening the second eye revealed much the same thing.

Clarke just stared at her, a tiny smirk in place. "So this is awkward," she said helpfully.

"You're not mad. I thought you'd be mad. I always pictured a lot more yelling than this."

Clarke cocked a brow. "Why?"

"You know why."

Clarke just looked at her blankly and Lexa wondered if she sustained head trauma when she was killed.

Somewhat exasperatedly (and bitterly) she elaborated. "The whole hating me and never wanting to see me again thing. That's kind of where I got it from."

Clarke chuckled. "Lexa, I was ten years old when I said that. My dad had just suddenly died...I wasn't exactly in my right state of mind."

"Still," persisted Lexa, "you never did reach out later on. You _knew_ where I was."

For the first time Clarke wasn't smiling. "Yeah, well, I've always been crap at apologizing."

This was true. There were fifty-nine instances where Clarke Griffin should have apologized last week alone. She was one of the most stubborn individuals on the planet, ranking in the top hundred, between a thirty-nine year old Uzbekistani man named Ansar Ibragimov, and a ninety-seven year old Icelandic woman who had never once said she was sorry, not even after running over her neighbours cat...twice.

" _You_ could've come to _me_..." said Clarke, attempting to deflect her own guilt at their lengthy separation.

"I thought you hated me," reiterated Lexa.

Clarke huffed. "Well I didn't...and I don't." She reached over and took Lexa's gloved hand in hers. "I once told you we were friends forever...I hope that still rings true."

"It does," reassured Lexa, embarrassingly quickly.

Dopey smiles across both their faces, they shared a rather intense gaze for a few seconds, by the end of which Clarke blinked and said, "Kiss me."

"Kiss you?" echoed Lexa, not trusting her ears in this regard. They had been buzzing ever since she came in here, though perhaps it was just the overheard lighting. She wasn't really sure about anything anymore. Clarke wanted her to kiss her?

Clarke blushed prettily, glancing down and toying with their joined hands. "Never kissing you was my biggest regret in life. I just thought maybe you could kiss me goodbye."

Despite the cool nature of the morgue room, Lexa was sweating and stiff as a board. She felt as though she'd been petrified. She had just seconds to decide, though really she had decided the instant she had laid eyes on Clarke, eyes once more vibrant with life.

 _"Lexa, promise me you won't bring me back," her father said weakly, coughing up blood. In a freak accident, he had managed to fall from the ladder and impale himself with the gardening shears. They had gone straight through him like a sword, piercing his lungs. He would expire within minutes, long before any substantial medical aid could be retrieved._

 _"But I can save you!" she exclaimed, frantic, trying her best not to cry._

 _Gustus shook his head. "The cost is too high."_

 _She had no idea what he was talking about. "Cost?"_

 _"Everything must remain in balance. If you take life for yourself for more than a minute, you steal it from somewhere else."_

 _"How do you know this?" Lexa hadn't even been aware that her father had known about her ability. Was he special too?_

 _Gustus coughed up some more blood. He sounded completely exhausted when next he spoke, so unlike the man she loved with all her heart. "Just promise me you'll let me die."_

 _Voice choked with emotion and unshed tears, she whispered, "I promise."_

 _"Goodbye my sweet pea," he said with one last kiss to her forehead. "I love you."_

She had made the right decision with her father, but she couldn't bring herself to lose someone else she loved again, not when she had the power to save her. So rather than meet Clarke's lips for the first and last time, she released her hand and allowed the minute to expire.

Clarke gave her a disappointed, and then confused look. "Lexa, how much time is left?"

There was a thud in the other room, just behind the swinging doors.

Wide-eyed, Clarke said, "What have you done?"

What had she done, indeed.

* * *

 **So there's the first installment, following the general premise to Pushing Daisies...what did you think? Should I try to include singing in here at some point?**

 **And I was messing around with google translate, and this is really childish, but when Lexa says 'who I.D.d her?' it sounds like 'who did her?' and then Raven says, 'Abby positively did her.' And yeah, I thought that was important to announce for some reason.**


	2. Chapter 2

Rushing into the waiting room, Lexa was met with the hoped for outcome. A moment of relief was quickly replaced by a gnawing guilt. Raven was kneeling over the body of the sprawled morgue attendant, checking his pulse.

"He's stone cold dead. One second he was fine, the next he was gone. That's the damndest thing I've ever seen in my life." She stood up with the aid of the attendant's desk, turned around and glared at Lexa. "I take it this is your handiwork?"

Lexa gulped, nodding slightly.

Raven advanced on her, grasping the lapels of her coat and pulling their faces mere inches apart. "What the hell did you _do_ , Lexa?" Her voice was surprisingly calm but her eyes burned with fire.

The double doors swung open and Clarke stood there, sheet wrapped around her torso like a towel. Raven closed her eyes in consternation, grounding her teeth together.

"Lexa, please tell me that the dead girl isn't standing right there."

"Hi, my name's Clarke," said Clarke, proffering her hand. "I don't believe we've met before. Are you Lexa's friend?"

Raven let go of Lexa, pinching the bridge of her nose and muttering angrily under her breath. A vein in her forehead looked ready to explode, just like the woman herself.

Lexa cocked her head towards Clarke and in a not very chastising tone said, "I thought I told you to stay put, Clarke."

Clarke smiled and said, "Since when has that ever worked?"

"True," said Lexa, grinning stupidly.

Lexa Woods and Clarke Griffin gazed at one another as if in a dream, completely oblivious to the unfortunate attendant and the silently simmering private investigator. Having just killed a man, Lexa shouldn't have been so gleeful, but she couldn't seem to help it. Her childhood sweetheart was alive for good. She didn't hate her. Never had in fact. Life was pretty fantastic.

"Would you two cut it out?!" snapped Raven, rather harshly popping their blissful bubble. They turned to face the irate woman, smiles disappearing. Raven grabbed Lexa's lapels again. "Do you have _any_ idea how fucked up this is?!"

"I am aware that the situation is less than ideal, Raven," replied Lexa stiffly.

"Less than ideal?" muttered Raven, eyes incensed. "Lexa, you traded that poor schlub's life for a girl you haven't even seen in eighteen years! It could've been me! Your _only_ _friend_!" She jabbed Lexa in the forehead, shoving her aside again. "Did you even _consider_ that before you lost your fucking mind?!"

"I did in fact," lied Lexa. "The odds seemed in your favour."

"There was a fifty/fifty chance it was gonna be me!" exploded Raven, tossing a cup full of pens at her, which she dodged fluidly, expecting the assault. It smashed against the far side of the room, forcefully expelling its contents. "'It's a random proximity thing!' That's what you told me! Or did I get that wrong?!"

"No, that's right," murmured Lexa, sufficiently cowed. She really hadn't cared about the consequences of her actions. The guilt was quickly replacing the giddy feeling again. Lexa stopped Raven from taking her anger out on the rest of the items on the attendant's desk by placing a hand on her shoulder and saying, "I'm sorry. You're right, I wasn't thinking. Even though you're kind of an ass, I would have been sad to lose you."

There was silence for some moments until Clarke pointed at the dead guy and said, "So...what are we going to do about him?"

"I think you mean, what are _you_ going to do about him?" said Raven, glowering at them. She slashed her arm. "I'm out of here."

True to her word, Raven stalked out of the room, heading in the direction of her car.

Lexa and Clarke stood over the body and debated their options for twenty-nine seconds before the decision was made for them by the arrival of the pathologist, one Jackson Sahel, a forty-three year old man with a penchant for candy pumpkins and capoeira, and who would be forever changed by the bizarre scene he would momentarily be met with. Thankfully Dr. Sahel had been speaking on the phone to his boyfriend before entering the room our heroines were currently inhabiting, and consequently they were able to exit said room before detection. Like children nearly caught trespassing, they giggled as they ran away from the scene of the crime, hand in hand. To combat the chill, and with nothing but the conspicuous sheet for Miss Griffin to wear outdoors, Lexa chivalrously removed her coat and draped it across Clarke's shoulders. Also like children, Clarke blushed at the gesture, causing Lexa to blush bashfully too.

They found Raven still in the parking lot, sitting in her car, banging her head against the glass, muttering a variety of things, most of which were along the lines of 'god no' and 'why me?' In the grand scheme of things, Miss Reyes considered this event to rank within the top three worst things to have ever happened to her. First place was still occupied by the cruel rejection of a tenth grade crush, an intimidating girl by the name of Anya Strident, who just months later would take a very different path down the winding road of life.

In a concerted effort to prevent bodily injury, they hurried over, and were surprised when Raven put up no resistance to letting them inside. Not only had Lexa gambled her life, but more importantly, Clarke was far from smelling like daisies and was sure to cause a lingering stench of death on Raven's stylish leather seats for some time to come.

Without a word, Raven took off, and not a moment too soon, for Dr. Sahel burst through the doors precisely one point three seconds later, scalpel raised, ready to deal with the killer who had apparently snatched a body. For what other explanation _could_ there be?

Clarke and Lexa laughed at the close call.

"Glad you're finding this so amusing," said Raven, glaring at them through the rear view mirror. "You've just landed yourselves in a world of shit, and I for one don't want any part of it."

"So you keep saying," said Clarke with a twinkle in her eye. "Yet you're still here, helping us. I appreciate it a lot by the way," she added before Raven could bitch and whine some more. "I'm not sure I would be half as gracious as you considering Lexa's betrayal."

"Just whose side are you on, anyway, missy?" grinned Lexa, poking her in the side.

Clarke shrugged nonchalantly and was about to say something when Raven swerved to avoid a large pothole, sending Clarke sideways and into Lexa's lap. Out of instinct, and a lifetime of avoiding physical contact, Lexa raised her hands in the air, as if in surrender, waiting for Clarke to remove her face from her crotch. All in all it was a comical picture, and it was Raven's turn to laugh, albeit begrudgingly.

"Sorry about that," blushed Clarke when she gripped Lexa's thigh in order to push herself into an upright position. "I guess we should really put on some seatbelts and stop tempting fate." She winked at Lexa. "We wouldn't want to have an accident before we've had a chance to catch up."

Lexa couldn't be sure because her heart was pounding so loudly, but she might have heard Raven mutter, "You're so fucked."

"Raven," she said, after buckling up and composing herself a bit, "you should really slow down."

"Don't fucking tell me what to do right now!" barked Raven, accelerating even more. "I'll do what I fucking want! This is _my_ car! My property and-"

Before she could go on a lengthy rant Lexa interrupted, "That's a very valid point, Raven, and precisely why I don't think you want to be pulled over with our current passenger. Now's not the time for unwanted scrutiny."

Conceding to logic and reason, Raven slowed down. And it was a good thing too. For not two minutes from their current position resided a hidden police cruiser with officers Harper McIntyre and Zoe Monroe, both eager for action.

Silently, they drove the speed limit, Clarke and Lexa sneaking peeks of one another, glancing away quickly whenever they made eye contact, and secretly grinning to themselves. It was all very sweet and juvenile, the sweetness leaving a sour taste in Raven's mouth the longer she inadvertently caught them doing it. As far as she was concerned, the sooner she was rid of them, the better. Once they left this car, they were on their own. She was quite adamant about that.

Pulling up to Grounders, Raven turned in her seat and said, "Good luck to the two of you." Staring at Lexa in a not so friendly manner, "I hope she's worth it."

Lexa looked at Clarke, remembering everything they shared together in what felt like a past life (and really, it technically was now) and nodded. "She is."

Embarrassed, Clarke glanced away, incredibly happy, and a little disturbed that Lexa would kill for her. They got out of the car at the same time, Raven taking off again without so much as a bird flipping. Somewhat awkwardly, they stood outside Lexa's slightly shabby place of business, until Clarke took the initiative and said, "Well, aren't you going to invite a girl in?"

Suddenly shy, Lexa bowed her head and went to unlock the front door. Realizing that her keys were in Clarke's possession, she apologized before moving in closer and dipping her hand inside her coat pocket. Ever aware of Clarke's proximity - lest one errant touch end everything - she fumbled for the keys until finally securing them.

Inside, she took Clarke's hand and led her through the darkened aisles until they reached the stairs that granted access up to her apartment. Stairs she had routinely been cornered on by Costia undert the guise of work questions. While the idea had been somewhat desirable where she was concerned (if only because she was so incredibly lonely) the thought of Clarke cornering her here sent another shiver through her frame.

Lexa's apartment was nothing to write home about, but it did have a certain charm, not unlike the somewhat beleaguered store downstairs. Flopping on the sofa, Clarke expressed admiration for the cozy atmosphere, saying it felt much more like their childhood homes in Arkadia than her own place.

"Where do you live?" asked Lexa without thinking. Clarke raised an eyebrow at the question. "Oh, right," said Lexa, rubbing the back of her neck, "I suppose you don't technically live anywhere now. Sorry about that," she murmured. "This whole situation is kind of overwhelming for me," she rambled, "I can only imagine what it's like for you...considering you know, you were dead. What's that like, anyway?" She winced, fidgeting in place, "That was insensitive of me, I'm sorry. I should probably just go to bed or something, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to sleep again. I killed a man, Clarke. How are you totally fine with that?"

After Lexa's mini melt down, Clarke got up and took her hands, "Yeah, you killed a guy, Lexa, and that's not exactly great, and being a doctor and all, I should probably care more, but if the choice was between some corrupt morgue attendant who let anyone in to do God knows what to the bodies, and me...well I choose me." She smiled, "I don't know if you know this about me, but I like being alive. It's kind of my most favourite thing..." she winked again, "besides _you_ of course."

Colour flooded her cheeks and she looked down at her toes, a tiny smile present. "I really wish I could hug you right now."

"Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I smell like death," joked Clarke, releasing her hands and sniffing herself. "Yup. I should probably go take a shower before I permanently ruin your coat. It's a nice coat." She stroked the fur collar. "Is this real?"

Lexa shook her head, smiling a little more. "You're a doctor? Like your mother?"

"Yeah, I work... _worked_ for Polis General, in the ER." She shrugged, feeling a pang of regret, knowing she'd never be able to go back there, at least not in the same capacity she once did. "It was a super stressful job, which I guess is why I took up smoking...but it was totally worth it. Bringing people back from the brink of death...and sometimes after," she swallowed here, and Lexa just knew she was thinking about her father, "that's about as rewarding a job as you can get."

Not seeing the point in chastising her about her bad habit, Lexa instead focused on the salient point here. "About your father, Clarke...I would've brought him back if I could...if there weren't so many damn restrictions on my ability. I would've brought him back so that you didn't have to grow up fatherless."

"I know you would've done the same for him as you did for me. Just like I'm sure you would've done for your own father...and countless others." She squeezed Lexa's hands. "But those restrictions are there for a reason, Lexa. Without them, you'd be playing God...well, more so than you already are."

Something else occurred to Lexa then. Clarke was an ER doctor at Polis General...a place Lexa had been a few months back when Raven had been injured on the job. There had been a point as she was leaving when she had bumped into one of the doctors, they had briefly touched hands as they sorted themselves out, but the woman had been so focused on her many tasks that she hadn't even looked up for Lexa's apology. She recalled a flash of blonde hair before it was swallowed up amongst the crowd...little did she know that was the last time they would ever be able to touch skin on skin. It was hard to remember now what that felt like, and not just with Clarke, with anyone.

Feeling overwhelmed again, she collapsed into a chair and placed her head in her hands, not even attempting to stem the flow of tears. The last time she had cried like this, Clarke had told her she hated her. Now that same girl was kneeling down beside her within moments of her distress, a comforting hand on her knee that was pleasant at first but rapidly seemed to be searing a hole through the fabric of her jeans, causing Lexa to become paranoid that just such a thing was actually happening. Fearing that Clarke was about to die (again) she pushed away from her and went to stand on the other side of the room. When she finally braved looking down, she saw that her jeans were in fact still intact, and she chuckled at her own stupidity. There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately. Clarke would have to forever remain in hiding with a person who couldn't properly touch her. They could come so close to real physical connection but never quite get there. A lingering warmth was all they'd ever have. What kind of life was that? What cruel fate had she just subjected them both to?

"Lexa?" called Clarke, bringing her back to the present, but keeping her distance.

She wiped her face on the back of her faux leather gloves before saying in-between quiet sobs, "All those years I wasted being afraid of your reaction to seeing me again...we'll never get that back...we'll never be what we once were. We'll never get to..." she sighed, her lip trembling as she held Clarke's concerned gaze, "I'll never be able to give you that kiss."

As if on cue, Clarke's gaze lowered to Lexa's lips and then back up to meet her watery eyes. Clarke licked her lips. "And that sucks...but it's better than the alternative-"

"Is it though?" interjected Lexa, hugging herself. No one else was likely to. "I think I'm just starting to understand the phrase, 'there are some things worse than death.'"

"Hey," said Clarke, moving nearer but not touching, "you're going to be fine. We both are. I have to believe that. And so should you. We just need some time to adjust, that's all."

When Clarke said it, Lexa almost believed it, and being emotionally exhausted, she nodded.

Clarke smiled at her reassuringly until her stomach growled loudly, prompting her to look sheepish. "I guess dying really took it out of me. I'm starving."

Despite herself, Lexa smiled and without a word beckoned Clarke into the kitchen. Lexa opened a fridge that looked like it was from the fifties (and maybe it was) and took a gander. There was leftover salad, a couple of apples and oranges, a few slices of a rather good vegetarian lasagna that Costia made her, and an entire blueberry pie that she bought yesterday but hadn't gotten around to trying out yet.

Clarke stood off to the side. "I could really go for some red meat right about now. Got any steaks? What about something to drink? Like red wine? Or even just a light beer?"

As she asked this she looked around the orderly, clean kitchen, surprised to not even find a coffee pot lying around. Clarke wouldn't be able to get up in the morning without the smell of freshly ground beans brewing. Being fairly well off, she had a deluxe fully automated espresso machine at her place, synced with her iPhone alarm, so it had whatever she had programmed in the night before ready to go by the time she dragged herself out of bed. She a had a sinking feeling the lack of it was going to prove very problematic.

"I don't eat meat," admitted Lexa, turning back to her, suffused in a yellow glow, "or drink." Seeing Clarke's crestfallen appearance though, she added, "But I'd be more than happy to go out and get you a cheeseburger from the fast food place of your choosing. And I could pick up some wine, or something stronger, while I'm at it."

Though Clarke was indeed starving, she could see how worn out Lexa was and wasn't about to make her run around the city tending to her needs. "No, that's okay, Lexa, I'm sure I can make do with what you've got around here." She nudged her shoulder gently, smirking. "You can treat me to a nice juicy steak tomorrow with those mad bills you got there. What's up with that anyway?"

Lexa glanced down at her blouse pocket where the hundreds still resided. She rubbed her forehead and said, "It's kind of a long story. Suffice it to say, Raven's not exactly poor."

"She must be a _good_ friend of yours," wondered aloud Clarke, "for you to confide your secret in her. Kind of thought I was the only one who knew you so well."

Smiling slightly at Clarke's obvious jealousy, Lexa said, "Our relationship was born of convenience, Clarke. You have nothing to worry about." She tapped Clarke in the chin with a fake punch. "You'll always be my number one gal."

They smiled at one another for a time until Clarke's stomach rumbled anew and dinner was served.

* * *

 **Aw, they're so sweet I'm starting to get a cavity.**


	3. Chapter 3

Stomach still a bit queasy, Lexa only nibbled at her slice of blueberry pie, and watched in some amusement as Clarke basically shoved the pie into her hole. The amusement vanished instantly when Clarke all but moaned as she heartily enjoyed her dessert. The sound caused an unasked for stirring within, one she had barely experienced in the last decade.

Clarke caught her staring, and mouth still full, said, "What?"

Coming back to herself quickly she replied, "You've got a little schmutz on your face." Without thinking she went to wipe it away with her napkin, and afterwards, inadvertently trailed her finger down Clarke's jaw like she had in the morgue. Clarke raised an eyebrow at the action which caused Lexa to blush slightly and quickly lean back in her chair.

For about the fiftieth time that evening, they simply stared at one another, as if trying to memorize the others face in case their reunion was cut short for some unforeseeable reason. A persistent buzzing in Clarke's vicinity broke the spell and they jumped a little in their seats. Clarke reached into the coat she was still wearing and pulled out Lexa's black Samsung Galaxy. The screen flashed with Raven's name, and to Lexa's (and no doubt Raven's) consternation, Clarke answered the call.

"Hey, Raven. What's up?"

Clarke grinned after a few seconds of muffled angry Spanish talk and said, "I'll make you a compromise, I'll put it on speakerphone."

Her grin widened further and then she pressed a button on the front and laid the phone between them on the kitchen table. "Jesus Christ, Lexa, you've had your girl back for all of an hour and she's already answering your calls? I knew you used to be attached at the hip, but isn't this a little excessive, even for you?"

They both flushed at the idea of Clarke being Lexa's girl, and then getting over herself fast Lexa said, "To reiterate said girl, what's up, Raven?"

Raven audibly grumbled. "I just thought you'd like to know that the police are already down at the morgue investigating the mess you left behind."

That caught both their attention and they looked to one another for a second, wide-eyed. "And?" said Lexa, with baited breath.

"And as far as I can tell, they have no fucking clue what went on down there...besides someone snatching a body that is."

Clarke and Lexa breathed out a sigh of relief.

"But I'm looking from the outside in, so it's not exactly ideal investigative work on my part. And obviously I'm not about to show my face any time soon considering my prints are all over the place."

"They are?" said Lexa, cluelessly.

"Yes, Sherlock, they are." There was a pause. "In case you forgot, I handled the money in the dead guys pocket, I touched his fucking neck after he kicked it, and I even opened the slot your girl was in. So, yeah, it's probably not a good idea for me to show my face here any time soon."

Anxiety tugged at her chest. "They're not going to be able to find you though, right? You're not in the system are you?"

Raven sighed. "I am...but it's not the usual one for criminals."

"Then what one?"

"I was in the military, remember? If they were persistent enough they could conceivably track me down. They'd have to go through layers of tape to unseal my records, but they could do it." Another short pause. "I was so fucking stupid to just leave the body like that. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It was a hectic time," said Lexa, biting her lip. "None of us were thinking clearly."

"You don't need to tell _me_ that," grunted Raven. "If I go down for this Lexa, I swear to God I'm taking you down with me. Mark my-"

"Lexa's been through enough tonight," interrupted Clarke, who was glaring at the phone. "She already feels bad enough about what happened. There's no need for idle threats here, Raven."

"Oh, trust me, sweet cheeks, my threats are never idle."

And before either of them could respond to that, the line went dead.

Dejectedly, Lexa stared at the phone some minutes then back up to Clarke's face. "I think I just lost her," said Lexa sadly. "She's never going to forgive me for gambling her life like that."

Clarke reached across the table, waiting for Lexa to take her hand. "She's just upset, Lexa. Give her some time. Let her sleep on it. She'll come around."

"And if they pin the murder on her, what then?"

"Then we'll deal with that bridge when we come to it."

Lexa sighed but understood this was out of her hands until then.

Clarke smiled softly at Lexa before standing up. "Now, I'm long overdue for a much needed shower. I promise I'll be quick, and then we can cuddle on the couch and finally get reacquainted with one another now that I'm not shoveling food into my face."

"As tempting as that sounds, Clarke, I'm not sure cuddling is the best idea," responded Lexa, moving a flake of pastry around with her finger.

Clarke shrugged. "Okay, no cuddling, but we'll sit really close. How does that sound?"

"I guess," Lexa said with another deep sigh, flicking the pastry across her plate.

Clarke hated seeing Lexa like this but there was nothing she could do besides be there for her until she felt better, something Clarke was determined to accomplish, if not tonight, then tomorrow.

Rather ironically, the murder victim was the one in high spirits. That is, until the warm water began to flow over her skin and Clarke Griffin was left alone with her thoughts, or in this case, memories. She recalled the noose around her neck, squeezing and squeezing the life out her; her frantic, ineffectual attempts to scream and break free from her murderer's grasp; her ragged, painful last breaths before everything went black. In other words, Clarke was having a panic attack.

Many minutes passed before she reclaimed her former composure, placing a hand to her still tender neck and shivering despite the warmth currently enshrouding her. A few uneasy breaths later, she commenced her primary goal and began scrubbing away at her body with ample amounts of soap, hoping to rid herself of all evidence of her not so recent departure from this world.

Lexa had asked her what it was like being dead, and now that she thought about it, she honestly didn't know. She had no memory from the time she died to when she awoke in the morgue. It was just... blank. Yet another unsettling thing about being back in this plane of existence. Absentmindedly, she ran a finger down her torso. At least her chest hadn't been opened up and she wouldn't be left with hideous scars...

Willfully shaking the morbid thoughts away, she finished tending to herself and hopped out of the shower. Wiping the slight fog away, Clarke looked at herself in the mirror for the first time since being back. She appeared to be exactly the same in her rebirth. All of the minor scars and marks accumulated over twenty-eight years, including the somewhat nasty one from a mentally unstable patient, were present. She felt along the sides of her trachea, pushing firmly, despite the tenderness. Whatever physical damage had been inflicted was no longer present. Her windpipe was structurally intact. The only evidence of what came to pass was the ugly welt. She wondered if it would leave a mark of its own.

It was then that she realized she had no clothing in here with her, so she stepped over the morgue sheet and coat that would probably have to be burned, and grabbed the only towel, which appeared to depict a somewhat menacing looking raccoon. She remembered Lexa's staunch support of the pesky creatures in her youth. No one had understood it, especially since they had occasionally raided her garden. Bemused, Clarke chuckled to herself and rubbed at her head a bit before wrapping the sinister thing around herself.

Apparently she had taken much longer in the bathroom than she thought because when she entered the living area, it was to find Lexa passed out on the couch, curled up into a little ball, so reminiscent of how she slept as a child. She pulled a plaid blanket over her, and almost overcome with affection, very nearly killed herself by kissing Lexa's forehead. Thankfully some sense returned to her just before her lips made contact, and she instead settled on placing a kiss to her covered shoulder. Then, disaster averted, she moved to Lexa's bedroom and picked out an over-sized sweater and a pair of sweatpants.

On top of the dresser, she came across two framed photographs that brought a fond smile to her face. One was of Tiny Pauna perched on top of her head (the bastard had peed on her a few moments later), and the other was of Lexa and her father, covered in dirt and standing in front of their impressive tomato plants. Gustus looked just as proud and happy as Lexa; it physically tugged on Clarke's heartstrings.

With the damp towel back in the bathroom, and not feeling the slightest bit tired, she began exploring Lexa's apartment in earnest, eager to get any insight into the woman she had become (besides the tee-totaling vegetarianism). It was a somewhat disheartening journey. Lexa seemed to be stuck in the past to a certain degree.

In her bedroom closet resided Gustus' leather jacket, his grapevine engraved harmonica peaking out of the breast pocket. There was also an unlabeled box in here, but she left that untouched. She found what at first appeared to be a dagger on the bedside table but turned out to be a familiar and slightly rusted Hori-Hori knife. In a corner of the living room resided Gustus' record player, along with all of his records. Most of these were blues and jazz, but there were some Beatles and other pop albums from awhile ago. Clarke was no stranger to wanting to feel close to her own father, so she was far from judging Lexa for her attempts. Yet it still saddened her.

In terms of jewelry and makeup, Lexa's supply was sparse. Clarke could relate. Except for the rare night out on the town, she never had any reason or real inclination to put that sort of effort in, especially since she routinely got blood (or other bodily fluids) on her face.

Unsurprisingly, throughout the apartment resided a number of potted plants, revitalizing the space with fresh air and colour. There were also scented candles, all unlit, all different scents. This candle fascination was something new. Clarke was the type to just feebreze as needed. No muss, no fuss.

There was a whole bookcase full of books in the living room, of a rather eclectic variety, and a fair number of gardening magazines stacked beside it. This told her almost nothing new about Lexa, Clarke already knew she was a massive bookworm and would consume anything and everything. However, upon closer examination of the books, she saw that an entire row was devoted to LGBT+ writers and topics. Similar to the photographs, these also brought a smile to her face.

Close by, on the coffee table was a beat up old laptop, but it was password protected. Clarke had a feeling she could probably crack it pretty easily, but decided against snooping to that degree. There was plenty of time for Lexa to confide in her the old fashioned way.

Just as she was about to check inside of the closet by the entrance, Lexa's phone buzzed again from across the still room. Clarke ignored it and opened up the closet to find that Lexa only possessed one other jacket, another full bodied one. It was possible that the one she was previously wearing could be salvaged with a few rounds of washing, but she wouldn't bet on it. She felt bad about ruining it and wanted to replace it, but she didn't exactly have access to her bank account anymore. She did have some money stashed away in her safe...though that was hardly more accessible.

After Lexa's phone buzzed for the umpteenth time, causing Lexa to stir in her sleep, Clarke went over to see who it was. For once it wasn't Raven, but rather someone named Costia. The smart thing to do would be to turn the phone off, and she fully intended to, however it was possible this was actually an important call, hence their persistence, so she answered it instead, closing the door behind her to Lexa's bedroom. And it was a good thing too because as soon as the line clicked, loud music could be heard in the background. It sounded like club music. Who the hell was this?

"Finally!" yelled a clearly intoxicated person. "I've been calling for ages!"

Clarke held the phone some distance from her ear - no speakerphone needed - not daring to speak unless absolutely necessary.

"Look, I know you said you don't drink, but you could still come out to the club! We could dance together! It'd be really fun! I think you'd really like it! So whattaya say?"

"Lexa? Are you there?" A bit of a beat. "I probably shouldn't be saying this, but I really like you! And not just 'cause you're a great boss!" She giggled and Clarke scoffed, internally. The level of unprofessionalism here was astounding. There was definitely no other reason this person was irritating her.

Very calmly, and with no trace of jealousy whatsoever, Clarke replied, "Lexa, can't come to the phone right now."

"Who is this?!" demanded Costia. "Where's Lexa?!"

"Please stop calling here. Enjoy the rest of your night, Costia, I know _I_ will," she finished smoothly, before ending the call.

The phone almost immediately started to buzz again, at which point Clarke finally turned it off. For all she knew, this Costia person was a lovely individual while sober and didn't deserve to be treated like that. Clarke didn't feel too badly though, the girl had sounded really drunk. The likelihood that she would remember their interaction in the morning was slim to none.

Having nothing else to occupy herself with, she decided she may as well attempt to get some sleep, so she plopped down on Lexa's queen sized bed and tulip patterned sheets and thought about her mother and her friends and how much they must be hurting right now. The idea of never speaking to them again was hard to bear. When that left her in silent tears, she thought about other things until her eyelids finally drooped close.

* * *

Disoriented by her unfamiliar location, it took Clarke several seconds to remember what had happened. She yawned, stretched deliciously, and opened her eyes more fully. When she took note of the person sitting beside the bed, staring at her, she smiled sleepily at them.

"Were you watching me sleep, Lexa?"

Flushing, Lexa glanced away, which was all the answer Clarke needed and her smile grew.

"How did you? Sleep, that is?" muttered Lexa.

For the most part her dreams had been filled with a certain brown haired girl, but that had been interrupted at one point by reliving her death again. Apparently the nightmare hadn't been enough to rouse Lexa in the other room, for which she was glad.

"Really well, surprisingly," she replied. "I don't usually sleep so well in other people's places."

Lexa smiled for the first time that morning...at least Clarke thought it was morning. There was no clock in the room. And now that she thought about it, there was no clock anywhere in the apartment, besides the incorrect one on the microwave and the one on Lexa's cellphone. It took Clarke a few moments to remember that Lexa had an impeccable internal clock, something that had only intensified when she discovered her ability in earnest. She was invariably right about the time to within a minute at any given point during the day. They used to make a game of it, which caused Clarke to lose a great many pieces of candy and Spice Girls stickers.

"Good," said Lexa. "I'm glad." They smiled at one another until Lexa held up her brightly lit cellphone, displaying the time as eight-thirty-two. Clarke hadn't slept in that late in a long time. "So...you turned my phone off last night."

"Yeah," said Clarke, propping herself up against the headboard. "Someone named Costia kept calling. Wouldn't take the hint."

"You didn't _speak_ to her did you?" asked Lexa, studying her in that vaguely unnerving way she had, the one that made Clarke feel like she was in trouble with the teacher.

"Well..." began Clarke, hands fidgeting in her lap, "maybe just a little."

" _Clarke_ ," said Lexa sternly, clicking the k. "You can't keep doing things like that. Not with people you don't know."

"What's the big deal?" huffed Clarke, dropping her arms and lightly slapping the sheets beside her. "It's not like she knows who _I_ am. It's not like she saw my _face_."

"And it better stay that way," said Lexa, holding up _The Daily Polis_. Underneath the main story about gun control, was a smaller section about...well, her. A crisp colour photo of her face from just last month was above the article. Frankly she was flattered her death had made the front page. A lot of people died in this city everyday. Clarke could very well attest to that.

Clarke took the paper from Lexa and realized the article had less to do with her death and more to do with her body going missing, and speculation on the monster who could have done such a thing.

"Already?" she murmured, glancing up at Lexa. "How is this in print so fast?"

Lexa raised an eyebrow. "Bodies of well respected ER doctors don't exactly go missing everyday, Clarke."

Clarke put the paper aside. "I know you're worried about someone figuring out who I am, but you can't expect me to stay locked up in your ivory tower for the rest of my life."

"I would never ask that of you," said Lexa, frowning at the very notion. "I want you to be happy...in whatever capacity that may be."

Clarke Griffin and Lexa Woods shared their seventy-sixth look since the previous day. Both felt as if they would never tire gazing upon the others face.

"So what are we going to do about my situation?"

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Lexa's lips, her eyes dancing with a rare mischief. "How do you feel about wigs?"

* * *

 **not sure why the yiddish is coming out in this fic. that's the second time. haha oh well, they can use it even if they're not jewish...**


	4. Chapter 4

While Lexa was out shopping for groceries and other supplies, Clarke rummaged through the cabinets, searching for some cereal. The only kinds she found were oats this and whole grains that. It was becoming glaringly obvious that Lexa was a health nut and treated her body like a temple. Not that there was anything wrong with that – she knew she should take a page out of her book - but sometimes a person just wanted a little sugar in their life.

She contemplated eating more of that delicious blueberry pie, but decided on an orange after realizing she had already devoured half of it herself. Near the end of consuming this, she made another realization; this was the first morning in forever that she hadn't had any coffee to drink. It was the first morning in forever that she hadn't even _thought_ of having any coffee. And now that she had thought of it, she honestly didn't care. She was perfectly content with her water.

As much as Clarke wanted to chalk this up to the excitement of last night, of seeing Lexa again, of pulling unlaboured air into her lungs...she had a feeling it was something more than that. She sat there, staring at a cactus plant, contemplating what this could possibly mean until there was a knock at the door. The apartment door. Which was above Lexa's store and only accessible to someone who had a key to the store.

She knew of only the one employee. _Costia_. What was she doing here? Lexa had called earlier to inform her that the store was closed for the day. That meant there was no reason for her to be here except...

"Shit," she muttered to herself. "Maybe if I just ignore her..."

Based on the incessant phone ringing last night, Clarke assumed this tactic wouldn't work. And sure enough, the knocking continued unabated every few seconds. Clarke got up and tiptoed to Lexa's bedroom in search of a makeshift disguise. However, as soon as she did so, there was an impatient and familiar voice from behind the apartment door.

"I can hear you moving in there. You can't hide from me!"

 _Shit_ , Clarke thought again, hurrying to toss off the over sized sweater and instead throw on a snug green hoodie from Lexa's closet. As she shoved her hair into the hood, she scanned the room for anything else to conceal her identity with, and settled on a pair of aviators on the nightstand. She put those on and immediately regretted it. The world was now blurry as fuck.

"Dammit, Lexa, just how blind are you?" she huffed, blinking her eyes rapidly, and squinting, doing her best to adjust to the new hazy vision, like she had just done ten shots of tequila. Clearly Lexa wore contacts most of the time.

Using the wall as a guide, Clarke slowly made her way over to the nuisance that was Costia Greene. With a deep breath, she unlocked the door and opened it. Being unable to see properly at the moment, it was hard to adequately describe the woman before her. All Clarke could really tell was that Costia was a little less full bodied than herself, a few inches taller (but only because of the three inch high heels) and was wearing a vibrant flower? dress. Even without proper sight though, she could see that she had a less than welcoming demeanour.

Hands on her hips, Costia looked her up and down and said, "So _you're_ the bitch from last night, huh? I was expecting someone more...i _mpressive_."

Clarke contemplated simply slamming the door in her face, but that wouldn't solve the problem and only set her off again. Costia had come to mark what she perceived to be her territory and was not going down without a fight. Clarke didn't know how much Lexa liked her employee or if she'd be grieved if Clarke was forced to get physical. One thing was for certain, Costia wasn't getting inside the apartment.

"Tell me Costia, do you think it's _impressive_ behaviour to wait until Lexa leaves to come up here and harass me?" countered Clarke, arms crossed.

"I'm not harassing you," said Costia, to which Clarke scoffed.

"Then what would _you_ call this little unsolicited visit? Sure feels like harassment to me."

Costia glowered at her, at least Clarke thought she was glowering. It was hard to tell minute details, even at this range. Lexa was really fucking blind without prescription aid. Already, Clarke was getting a headache from the strain, though doubtless dealing with this situation wasn't exactly helping matters.

"I just came here to tell you that I think it was really shitty of you to pretend to be Lexa and hear things that weren't meant for your ears, especially since I was clearly drunk at the time."

"Personally I think you're really lucky it was me who heard your...declaration, considering you know, Lexa's your _boss_. Calling her like that was really unprofessional, Costia. You should've known better, even if you were drunk." _Apparently not drunk enough to forget our conversation..._ "That was embarrassing for the both of us."

Dropping her hands from her hips, Costia had the good grace to stare off to the side briefly before returning her gaze to Clarke's. "You didn't tell her what I said, did you?"

"She knows you called...a lot...but she doesn't know the content of our conversation."

Some of Costia's hostility seemed to evaporate, though she was still far from being Clarke's buddy. "Well, that's something at least. Thanks," she added begrudgingly.

Clarke thought it rather odd that Costia was so concerned about Lexa hearing what she had said. If this altercation was any indication of the way in which Costia usually conducted herself, that is to say, intensely, Lexa would have to be a complete moron to not realize Costia liked her as more than just a friend and colleague. The idea raised Clarke's metaphorical hackles again, and she remained on guard.

"Can I help you with something else?" asked Clarke pleasantly enough when Costia gave no indication of leaving. She hoped this was over with soon, she was starting to go cross-eyed in her futile attempts at focusing.

Staring at Clarke like she was trying to read her mind, Costia replied, "Yeah, I just wanted to know...who the hell are you? I've never seen anyone other than Raven around here."

"I thought that was obvious," stated Clarke flatly. Costia bristled at that. "I'm Lexa's friend."

" _Just_ her friend?" pressed Costia. "On the phone it sounded like-"

"We're just friends," interrupted Clarke, somewhat bitterly, even though her recently dead heart beat faster every time Lexa was near. They could never be anything more than that, not with her...condition. "I'm in town for awhile, so I'm staying with Lexa for the time being."

Costia relaxed further and even smiled wide enough for Clarke to see. "Oh, where are you from?"

It seemed like a feigned attempt at interest or civility or whatever but Clarke answered anyway, saying the first place that came to mind. "Arkadia."

Costia seemed surprised by that response. "You're from the same hometown as Lexa?" Suspiciously, "She never mentioned being in contact with anyone from there."

 _Just how often do you pester her with personal questions?_

"Well, she wasn't, not really," muttered Clarke. "We happened to reconnect by chance recently." _If you call a magic finger 'chance.'_

If she didn't take these sunglasses off soon, she would have a splitting headache for the rest of the day, which would make her makeover considerably less bearable.

"Well, if that's all, Costia, I was in the middle of something before you knocked..." she began, starting to slowly close the door in her face.

Costia stopped the door with her foot and Clarke bit back a groan. "Wait, I didn't get your name. You know mine. It seems only fair."

"Cla-Claire, it's Claire," she recovered as best she could.

Costia seemed satisfied with that and turned to leave. Then she turned back again. Clarke was nearly in tears, her eyes were hurting so badly, almost as badly as being pepper sprayed. She squeezed them shut in an effort to ease the pain.

"I guess we'll be seeing each other around, Claire." Her tone implied she didn't fully believe the whole just friends thing, and frankly, Clarke couldn't blame her, not while she was wearing Lexa's clothes and smelled like her soap and shampoo.

Clarke really didn't consider them just friends, even as children. Her connection with Lexa had always felt like more, though she didn't know how to describe it back then. Nowadays she would say this feeling felt an awful lot like-

"Love," she said out loud, flushing at her own stupidity, as well as the realization that she was in love with Lexa and had been for a long time, which is why she had taken her refusal to bring her dad back to life particularly badly and destroyed their relationship in one fell swoop.

Costia frowned at her and said, "Excuse me?"

Clarke swallowed quickly, licking her lips. She pointed in the general vicinity of the windows downstairs, that were clearly not visible (even to someone with proper sight). "Dove. There was a dove there a moment ago. They're such majestic creatures, don't you think? I don't think it's right that people cage them up just to release them for weddings. They deserve better than that."

Costia arched both her eyebrows. "Are you high? You're dressed like you're high. Is that what you're so impatient to get back to? Your bong?" She put her hands back on her hips. "Did you wait for Lexa to leave so that you could get high in her place? Because I don't think she would appreciate that very much and-"

"Goodbye, Costia," said Clarke, closing the door and simultaneously ripping off the sunglasses from hell. Even squeezing her eyes shut didn't stop a few tears from leaking through, though Clarke suspected they were more a consequence of her realization than anything else.

* * *

"Clarke, I'm back!" called Lexa as she nudged the door open with her hip. Her hands were full with reusable bags of groceries and other supplies. "I could-"

Clarke appeared seemingly out of nowhere, scaring Lexa slightly. "Here, let me get that for you," she offered, taking a couple of the bags out of her gloved grasp.

"Thanks," said Lexa, glad to have some feeling returning to her finger tips. Lexa didn't own a car, so she had had to walk to all of her destinations. Being in a bustling city meant that you usually didn't have to go too far to get whatever you wanted, but a fair amount of walking was inevitable regardless.

They moved towards the kitchen table to deposit the bags. Lexa started pulling items out. "So, I got you some red hair dye, hope you like the hue. And I tried to find those cookies you wanted but they were all out. Also-" She stopped mid-sentence when she noticed Clarke just standing there, staring at her, but not in the usual way that she stared at her. There was something more there now that Lexa couldn't quite place. She raised a questioning brow. "Clarke?"

Clarke glanced away quickly, busying herself with taking things out of bags. "Thank you for getting all this stuff for me, Lexa, you really didn't have to."

"I _wanted_ to," she informed, to which Clarke smiled.

For the second time that morning, a woman looked her up and down. When Lexa did it, she got a little thrill.

"I suppose we'll still need to take you clothes shopping," continued Lexa. "My day to day clothing isn't likely to fit you, and your current look isn't doing you any favours."

Clarke smirked. "Or...we could break into my place and raid it."

Lexa was startled at first but then realized that Clarke was only joking. At least, she thought Clarke was joking. "Clarke, the building is likely still cordoned off by the police. It is a crime scene after all."

Clarke's smirk faltered at that and Lexa felt bad about reminding her of her trauma. She hadn't said anything about her murder yet (not that she'd had much of a chance) but Lexa wasn't about to push her to talk about it if she wasn't ready yet.

Before she could apologize however, Clarke quipped, "Yeah, I guess that would be kind of bad...being caught dead and all." Lexa rolled her eyes. "But _you_ could go there yourself maybe and check the place out for me."

"I don't know, Clarke-"

"I'm not saying it has to be today or anything, but maybe sometime soon?"

Lexa thought about it for a moment and gave a slight dip of the head.

"So," said Clarke, snatching up the hair dye, "Olia 4.62, Dark Garnet Red." She looked at Lexa. "It'll certainly be a change. I haven't dyed my hair since I was eighteen."

"Oh? What colour?" asked Lexa, interested in hearing about Clarke's past, no matter how mundane. She started to put things into the fridge as Clarke answered.

"I tried a bunch of different colours in my teenage years," said Clarke, handing her a carton of eggs, "but my favourite was always the hot pink."

Lexa straightened up. "Why didn't you tell me that? I could've gotten you-"

"Relax, Lexa," interjected Clarke, "red's close enough. I mean, could you really see me with hot pink hair nowadays?" She put her hands on her hips. "I'm a grown woman for crying out loud." Lexa shook her head, smiling slightly. "Besides which, the point of this was to _detract_ attention, remember?"

Lexa nodded and continued putting things away.

"Did you ever dye your hair?"

"Yes," replied Lexa, frowning at the memory, "but not on purpose."

"Oh no," Clarke chuckled. "What happened?"

Lexa sighed. "My roommate in college decided to add dye to my hair gel. I used to just put some in every morning without paying much attention. I didn't even realize anything was amiss until someone commented on my hair. I washed it out as soon as possible, but the damage was already done. I was stuck with neon hair for weeks, and this was during finals so I couldn't exactly skip class. I took to wearing a hat, but everyone already knew."

Clarke was biting her lip, clearly trying not to laugh, and Lexa glowered at her. Then Clarke soldiered her expression. "What a bitch. I would've retaliated if I were you."

"And what makes you think I didn't, Clarke?" asked Lexa politely, looking a little offended, one hand on her hip.

"What did you do?" said Clarke eagerly, very intrigued now. Lexa had never been the confrontational sort as children. But perhaps that had changed?

In response Lexa only gave her a dark expression, reminiscent of the raccoon on her towel. "Blood must have blood."

Those ominous words and the way she was looking right now partially scared Clarke, partially explained why she had been willing to kill to keep her alive...but mostly turned her on. With difficulty, Clarke swallowed through the lump in her throat and the sudden dryness, and willed herself to beat this feeling down as fast as possible.

Lexa's expression changed back to its normal doe-eyed attitude a second later, head tilted to the side, looking at Clarke in confusion. "Clarke, what's-"

"Might as well get this over with," she said, scooping up the hair dye box again.

"Do you need help?" said Lexa after a slight pause. "I can put latex gloves on and-"

The thought of Lexa running her fingers through her hair was very enticing, and precisely why she couldn't let her do it. Not at this particular moment in time.

"No, that's all right," explained Clarke as she headed towards the bathroom. "It's just like riding a bicycle. I'll get the hang of it again soon enough."

Lexa blinked and furrowed her brow at Clarke's odd behaviour. She wondered again if she had sustained brain damage when she was killed. She wondered if she should do a search online for testing Clarke's cognition. For the time being she finished putting away her purchases.

* * *

An hour later Clarke reappeared in the living room. "Well, what do you think?"

Lexa closed the lid to her laptop - showcasing a site dedicated to cognition tests _-_ and gave Clarke her full attention. Because Clarke's natural blonde hair was so light, the dark red hue had turned out more or less exactly like the lady's on the box. "Looks good. Red suits you."

"Thanks. You think I should cut it too?"

"No," said Lexa. "This should be a sufficient disguise. As far as your hair goes anyway. I was thinking we could just cover up your eyes with a pair of sun-"

"No sunglasses!" exclaimed Clarke, turning a brighter shade than her hair a second later.

Concerned again, Lexa slowly said, "Clarke, I think perhaps we should do some cognition tests."

Clarke scrunched up her face. "You think I have brain damage, Lexa? Really?"

A little sheepishly, Lexa licked her lips. "Granted I don't really know how you normally behave these days...but I feel as though you have been acting a bit strangely...and you _were_ dead...I just want to make sure you're okay."

She huffed at Lexa's thoughtfulness. She was always so sweet. It was impossible to take real offense to anything she said, not that she usually said something offense. "I'm a doctor, Lexa. I've already checked myself out. I'm perfectly fine. Trust me, my brain's fully intact."

"Can you really be an accurate judge of something like that?"

Clarke sat down beside her on the couch. "Put your gloves on."

"Clarke?" she questioned.

"Just do it," puffed out Clarke.

Lexa reached across the coffee table and stuck them on. Clarke took one of her hands and placed it against her neck, the hideous welt still present. She pressed Lexa's fingers in. This action was making her very uncomfortable and she was about to protest when Clarke said, "Do you feel that?"

Lexa looked up and instantly regretted it. Their faces were much too close to one anothers. It took everything in her not to glance down at her lips. "Feel what, Clarke? Your neck just feels like a neck."

"Exactly," said Clarke, blinking a number of times. This proximity was killing her. Not literally mind you, but close enough. She released Lexa's hand and put a little space between them, finally able to breathe again. "When you brought me back, it physically healed me. There's no structural damage now."

"So any degeneration after death, be it brain or otherwise, would also have been healed," said Lexa, understanding her meaning.

"So you can stop worrying about me now. I'm perfectly fine. Better than fine, really."

"What do you mean?" wondered aloud Lexa.

"Well, I haven't had any coffee yet today, or even a smoke," Clarke caught the slight eye narrow, "and I haven't been jittery at all. Normally if I went this long without some kind of fix, I would be biting everyone's head off." She paused staring at her hands. "I think maybe when you brought me back, you also cured my addictions."

"That's good, isn't it?" said Lexa hesitantly, not sure if Clarke would be mad about such a drastic and immediate change to her lifestyle.

Clarke looked over at her and shook her head, smiling. "Yes, Lexa, that's good. It's fantastic. I feel like a new me."

Lexa gave her her patented lopsided grin. "Good," she said reiterating words from earlier this morning. "I'm glad."

* * *

 **Poll time: on a scale of 1-Lexa, just how blind are you? I'm between 1 and 2. 1 during the day, 2 at night. I've got astigmatism so it's worse then. And if you're actually blind, I hope you don't take offense to this. I'm just being silly.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

Tired of being cooped up in the apartment, Clarke persuaded Lexa to allow her downstairs, the only stipulation being; no lingering around the display windows. More than worrying about someone recognizing her, Lexa was wary of potential customers who would think the store was open for business, and she'd rather not have to deal with them if she didn't have to.

During their brief foray around the interior building, Clarke came across various gardening supplies, bouquets of flowers, and Lexa's diploma from Tondc dated from six years ago. It was hanging behind the cash register as if to quell any fears that Lexa didn't know what she was talking about.

Clarke side-eyed her and said, "Does that work?"

"Sometimes." Lexa shrugged, a faint smile present. "I figured, if doctors can do it, so can I."

"I'll have you know that I never hung mine up at the hospital." She smirked. "I also didn't really _have_ an office..."

Lexa rolled her eyes. "Why not?"

Clarke put a hand to her chest. "Apparently it wasn't in the budget for a lowly ER doctor." She started fiddling with a pouch of green pea seeds on the counter beside the register. "When I really needed a quiet space to fill out paperwork, I just used my mom's office. She's the Chief Physician now and basically runs the place."

Clarke seemed wistful, so Lexa let her have a few moments to herself before prompting with, "And she couldn't find any money in the budget for her own daughter. That seems...strange."

Clarke shrugged. "Well, technically she _did_ , but it was basically a broom closet." She stared straight at Lexa and abruptly stopped fiddling. "There was no way in hell I was going back in the closet."

Feeling flustered, Lexa simply said, "Oh", very quietly and then suggested they move into the back lot, to check out more of Grounders' wares.

Everything had been so up in the air recently that Lexa hadn't really had a chance to process precisely _why_ Clarke would have wanted to kiss her goodbye. Perhaps had she been in a less petrified state of mind, Lexa would have sooner recalled Clarke's regretful admission. As it was, that memory only just now surfaced, and she realized that Clarke might possibly be attracted to her in a reciprocal manner, negating the oft repeated ' _just friends_ ' mantra of her youth.

The back lot comprised of approximately two hundred square feet of space,* and it was filled with orderly rows of yet to be potted plants of various shapes and sizes. Both perennial and annual flowers were present. Nearly all appeared to be in pristine condition. The automated irrigation system was currently inactive, allowing free reign without fear of any back splash, minor as that may be. Due to all the vegetation, it was more humid than out front. Though doubtless, the small greenhouse along the far wall would prove the most inhospitable should either of our heroines enter it.

As always, Clarke's favourite flowers were the daisies, and she stopped for some moments to breathe them in, Lexa watching on with a fond smile. Eventually Clarke noticed this perusal, and straightening, turned to face Lexa.

"Do you remember the daisy you gave me for my tenth birthday?"

Lexa raised an eyebrow, then nodded. "You don't still have it, do you?" she asked, cautiously optimistic.

Clarke sighed, glancing back down at the daisies beside her. She lightly ran her fingertips over the petals. "Unfortunately no. I was so angry at you after..." she swallowed, "so I ripped it to shreds."

Without a word, Lexa moved back into the store, the bell chiming, and returned a few moments later, a slightly wilted daisy in gloved hand. Then, removing the other glove, she touched the centre of the flower. The daisy immediately sprung back to full life, its stem ramrod and snow white petals lacking a single crease. It almost appeared to have taken on a golden hue, emanating from the centre, though doubtless that was just Clarke's imagination.

This rejuvenated daisy she held out to Clarke, a shy smile in place, echoing her expression from eighteen years ago. "Here," she said simply.

"I forgot how cool that looked," murmured Clarke in some amazement. It had been a long time since she had seen Lexa perform her magic trick. For some years they had even thought Lexa a witch. But when her Hogwarts letter never arrived, they realized they were mistaken, and the mystery of Lexa's gift only deepened.

Carefully, Clarke took it from her and held it up to her nose, inhaling deeply. "Smells like it just came out of the ground." She glanced up at Lexa. "Thanks...this was really sweet of you." She tucked it securely behind her ear and partially through her hair. "I'll make sure to keep this one safe."

Exceedingly pleased, Lexa flushed but maintained eye contact. "See that you do. My other flowers won't take too kindly to the strain of replenishing your supply." She became a bit sheepish. "That's kind of the reason my business has been struggling lately."

"What do you mean?" said Clarke, confused.

"Did you ever hear of 'forever flowers'?" she asked, already knowing the answer, or _hoping_ she did.

Clarke racked her brain for many seconds, only vaguely noticing a petunia shriveling into nothingness, and then stared at Lexa in disbelief. "Lexa, you didn't."

Even more sheepishly Lexa said, "I did. I'm not sure what madness was gripping me at the time that made me think I could get away with something like that." Suddenly shy again, "I think maybe it was a desperate attempt to get you to notice me." She chuckled softly. "And I _did_ get noticed. By lots of people. That's how Raven and I met."

Eager to prove herself as the new owner of Grounders, Lexa Woods, age twenty-seven and nine months, decided to use her ability to produce the most pristine, long lasting flowers Polis had ever seen. Critiques claimed they must be fake, but upon closer examination, this was proven to be false. Word spread quickly of these miraculous achievements, and people came by the dozens to purchase 'enchanted roses', or 'beguiling begonia's', or any number of other names Miss Woods could concoct. Not completely taking leave of her senses, Lexa marketed these reasonably priced oddities with a special spray (water) that would keep them fresh for the foreseeable future.

However, the price of fame and fortune was the death of Lexa's entire back lot supply, as well as the demise of a considerable amount of vegetation for a mile radius from Grounders. Having received more than one case involving the mysterious death of a beloved and prized plant, Raven Reyes reluctantly followed the path of destruction, eventually discovering the epicentre, and the perpetrator of mass horticulture homicide. When confronted with the reality of her overzealous business endeavours, and the end of an M9, Lexa dropped the trowel she had been holding and confessed her many sins. To prevent her premature end, Lexa also revealed her secret to Miss Reyes, who upon witnessing such supernatural power exclaimed, "Santa Mierda! ¿Qué eres?"

Upon learning that this power extended to all dead things, the wheels began to turn in Raven's head. Rather than further expose Miss Woods to the world and subject her to scientific study, Raven instead struck a deal. For every suspicious (and generally bizarre) death with a price tag attached to it, Lexa would interview the victim. If the information proved useful, Raven would pay Lexa a portion of the monetary reward. Unfortunately, more times than not, the victim's were unable to provide accurate accounts of their killers, and the cases took much longer to solve the old fashioned way.

Due to her general ineffectual efforts, and the unsettling feeling she received around dead people, Lexa began making excuses to avoid helping Raven, often complimenting her considerable ego. Thankfully by that time, Raven had taken a liking to Lexa, and decided to only request her help when the reward was fairly substantial. The last such case involved a woman named Ontari, who one night decided to set fire to a number of establishments that she felt had wronged her in some way. As luck would have it, an unfortunate soul who was burned to a crisp, provided them with the name of their pyromaniac, the culprit duly processed to the full extent of the law.

"So," said Clarke after Lexa's lengthy, rambling explanation of her connection to Raven, during which they had moved back into the air conditioned store, "basically you guys cheat the system...for financial gain." Arms crossed, she frowned at Lexa. "Am _I_ one of your scores?"

"No," replied Lexa hastily, mortified that Clarke would think such a thing, however justified. "I swear to you, Clarke, I would never do something like that. I l-" she bit her tongue so hard that she tasted blood. Clarke's eyes had widened at the almost reveal. "You're my best friend," she covered up, rather lamely, heart hammering.

The situation between them was already complicated enough, no need to make it even more so. With bated breath, Lexa waited to see if Clarke would let that slip of the tongue pass.

Clarke's expression softened. "And don't you forget it."

Their staring contest was interrupted by a knock on the display window. Snapping out of their trance, they found a middle aged man gesturing urgently. The sign clearly said they were closed, but that had never stopped them before.

Lexa sighed. "I'll be right back."

* * *

After dealing with the annoying customer, Clarke further prodded Lexa into letting her go outside of the store...in order to go into another store where she could acquire some clothing that actually fit her properly. She agreed with Lexa's assessment that not much besides the sweats were going to fit her bustier, thicker physique, and as comfortable as those were, she didn't really fancy wearing them for the rest of her life.

As anxious as Lexa was to let Clarke out in public, she knew it was inevitable and pointless to try and stop it. So with a wary eye, they ventured forth and into _The Dead Zone_ , the first place that didn't have ridiculous loud music blaring.

While Clarke searched through piles of reasonably priced jeans, Lexa carefully watched everyone who was passing by, gloved hands behind her back, which was ramrod straight. She wore her other long, black coat and the aviators from hell. It was as if she were Clarke's bodyguard and ready to take out the first person who so much as looked at her wrong. This had rather the reverse effect she was hoping for, and caused _more_ attention to their persons.

When Clarke noticed her well meaning but odd behaviour, she hissed, "What are you _doing_? Get over here and stop acting so weird." Lexa begrudgingly gave up her self assigned task, only to be promptly given another. Clarke shoved a number of jeans into her arms. "Hold on to these for me, I'm gonna check out the shirts now."

Before Lexa could protest at becoming a glorified clothing rack, Clarke had taken off. Lexa sighed and went after her.

Finally Clarke decided she had enough clothing to head to the changing rooms, for which Lexa was only too grateful. She must have been shouldering forty pounds of weight. That was undoubtedly an exaggeration, but Lexa was tired and grumpy enough to believe its accuracy.

It was some minutes before Clarke opened the changing room door and showcased herself. When she did, it was all Lexa could do not to gape. She was glad for her sunglasses, at least the shock present in her eyes (and slight downward gaze) wasn't visible.

Clarke was simply attired in a pair of black jeans that hugged her ass perfectly and a somewhat low-cut gray shirt that showed off a bit of her cleavage. This ensemble shouldn't have sent her heart-rate through the roof, but it did, the urge to touch stronger than it had been even upon Clarke's first revival. The fact that the image of Clarke's considerable upper endowments were firmly seared into her minds eye, wasn't helping matters. She clenched her jaw (and other parts of her anatomy) to keep herself under control.

"What do you think?" asked Clarke, turning around once, arms extended from her sides slightly. "Is this okay?"

Lexa could only manage a stiff nod and a faint smile.

Clarke went back into the changing room and grinned.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

That evening as they were playing _Life_ and reminiscing about their golden age of childhood, Clarke who was partaking of some red wine, suddenly grabbed Lexa's phone and put on Spice Girls' _Spice Up Your Life_.**

Clarke with a smirk, hopped to her feet. She was wearing one of her recently purchased outfits, the tags still visible - thankfully one that wasn't showing any cleavage.

The lalala's started up soon after. Lexa did not like where this was going. She knew she shouldn't have bought Clarke that wine...

"Come _on_ , Lexa," said Clarke, "Come dance. You know you want to."

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Clarke," said Lexa, ass firmly planted on the carpet.

Clarke rolled her eyes, grabbed a hold of her hands and yanked her up. "We don't have to touch," she said, still touching her, "just...dance around each other, like we used to as kids."

Moving away a couple of feet, Clarke began to jerk her limbs around, not completely without grace, but hardly better than she had managed as children. It seemed some things never changed. Lexa was doing her best not to laugh.

Clarke gave her the stink eye. "Oh, like you can do any better, superstar. Last time we danced you nearly put my eye out."

When Lexa made no move to dance with her, Clarke pouted slightly and started to sing (or rather scream) the chorus. In order to preserve her hearing, Lexa sighed and bust out her moves, just as the second part of the chorus began. Her precise, practiced movements were in time and synchronized to the latin flavoured beat.

It didn't take long before Clarke had stopped singing _and_ dancing. She gaped at Lexa as she ' _shook it to the right_ ', and gulped inaudibly when Lexa twirled around her at the ' _Huh huh and go round_ '. She was still standing there doing nothing by the time the lalala's recommenced and Lexa was again doing her best not to laugh. Clarke was rarely rendered speechless, so it was a treat to see her so flabbergasted, especially after their trying shopping season, in which Lexa figured Clarke was purposely trying to get a reaction out of her. Well, two could play at that game, however inadvisable.

"Something the matter, Clarke?" smirked Lexa, overly pleased with herself. Lexa shook her hips right in front of her, drawing Clarke's line of sight downwards. "I thought you wanted to dance?"

Coming back to herself, Clarke blinked rapidly and then started moving halfheartedly, her former enthusiasm all but forgotten. Her brain continued to malfunction as she witnessed Lexa's confident display, like a peacock spreading its feathers trying to attract its mate. There was no doubt left in her mind that she was gay for her best friend, and this whole no touching thing would be the death of her.

When the music finally ended, Lexa looked at her and said, "Should I put it on again?"

"No!" blurted out Clarke, finding it incredibly difficult not to throw herself at Lexa. Lexa cocked a brow at her, giving her a politely confused expression. "I just...I'm suddenly feeling tired," she lied, her nerve endings alight, her heart feeling fit to burst. "That wines really kicking in now."

She dropped to the couch. Lexa observed her smugly but didn't say anything else before sitting down across from her. It appeared their game of _Life_ would remain unfinished.

A few minutes of silence passed before Clarke said, "Wha- where the hell did you learn to do _that_?"

Still high off of impressing Clarke, Lexa leaned back in her chair, hands behind her head and said, "Raven."

Confused (and a little jealous), Clarke said, "But her leg..."

Lexa grimaced slightly, bringing her hands back to her lap. "She taught me before she got shot. It happened a few months back," Lexa elaborated. "Some cheating asshole she had taken incriminating photos of surprised her. The bullet got lodged in her spine. She actually ended up at Polis General, but I don't think you treated her at any point."

Lexa left out the part where they had briefly touched. There was no point in dwelling in the past and what could never be.

"Jesus," muttered Clarke. "With that kind of damage it's a miracle she's walking around at all, let alone so soon after the incident. That girls got some spirit, I'll give her that."

"That she does," said Lexa softly, staring off into space.

"Hey," said Clarke, redrawing her attention. "She's going to forgive you. I just know it."

"I hope so...if it weren't for Raven, I would never have seen you again."

They smiled softly at one another. "Well, it's late," said Lexa, "and you're tired, so you should get some rest. It's supposed to be a bit chilly tonight so I've put an extra blanket by the foot of the bed. Just in case."

"I don't want to keep taking your bed though," objected Clarke. "I should take the couch tonight."

"You're my guest, Clarke. You get the bed."

"What if we...shared it?" inquired Clarke hopefully.

To her surprise Lexa said, "Sure Clarke." Then, dryly, "Will you be the one wearing the full bodied hazmat suit?"

"Don't be an ass," scowled Clarke. Then her eyes lit up. "Do you think that would work? 'Cause, no joke, I can get my hands on one of those."

"You're serious?" said Lexa, incredulously.

Clarke was getting excited now at the prospect of being able to cuddle with Lexa. "Yeah, we have them at the hospital for emergency viral outbreaks. I can get my friend Octavia..." her face fell. "Oh, never mind, that won't work. I can't exactly call her up anymore." She looked at Lexa for confirmation.

"No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea, Clarke," said Lexa gently, with a sad smile.

Clarke huffed and said, "This sucks. I just want to let them know that I'm okay. Do you think I'll ever be able to do that?"

Besides the fact that her mother had identified Clarke's corpse, her murder investigation was still ongoing. If anyone besides Raven and herself caught wind of Clarke being alive, that would make it considerably harder to convict someone. And letting Clarke's murderer walk free was not an option.

Once again, Lexa wished she could hug her. Lexa settled for moving beside her and placing a hand on her knee. "Perhaps someday, when this is all over."

"But," said Clarke taking the flower from her hair and twirling it between her fingers, "will it ever _really_ be?" Before Lexa could respond, Clarke continued, "Do you think I'm like the daisy now?"

"How do you mean, Clarke?" wondered Lexa aloud.

With sorrowful blue eyes still focused on the flower, she replied, "I mean, am I going to stay like this forever? Am I never going to age?"

Lexa was dumbstruck at the notion. Somehow she had never contemplated it before touching Clarke even though she knew better. Her grip tightened on Clarke's knee. She didn't want to devastate Clarke further tonight, but she also refused to lie to her. "You're like the daisy now," Lexa said quietly, releasing her grip. "I'm sorry."

Clarke sighed, nodding faintly. "So as long as you never touch me again, I'll live forever," she said hollowly.

"Clarke, I-"

Abruptly she stopped twirling the flower. She looked at Lexa, the sadness retreating momentarily, giving way to confusion and curiousity. "Wait, how do _you_ know that for sure? How do you know it's the same for humans?" Half jokingly, "Have you brought someone else back that I don't know about?"

 _Shit_ , thought Lexa. She really didn't want to get into this tonight.

"Lexa," frowned Clarke, the last remnants of her smile disappearing, "answer me."

Lexa sighed before holding her gaze and saying, "It's a long story...but if you insist, I'll tell you."

* * *

 ***it should be noted that i'm shit with visualizing sizes, so this may be way too small or way too big for what i'm describing**

 ****i picked this song at random...and hilariously, the music video has some of them wearing heda's** _warpaint_ **(or something similar) in the** _future_ **...that they are the** _rulers_ **of. guess it was meant to be lol**


	6. Chapter 6

The long story was as follows:

Upon Gustus Woods untimely death, Lexa went to live with her Aunt Indra, her godmother, and by most accounts, a social recluse. Relocated to a small, secluded house several towns away from Arkadia, Lexa could only visit with Clarke on the weekends and summer vacation. When Clarke's father, Jake, died in a car crash one slippery, wintry night, Lexa could not come to her aid. It wasn't until his funeral that she met Clarke face to face and the impossible request was made of her, to which she denied, though it broke her heart to do so.

Brokenhearted and friendless, Lexa nevertheless dutifully finished her schooling, pouring all of her frustration and sadness into her work, excelling. Indra, not one for small talk or feelings, mostly left her to her own devices. Scarred from the traumatic death of her father, Lexa could not bear to look at so much as a tomato plant without weeping. Gardening of all kinds was forgone in favour of the fantastical worlds of her never-ending supply of library books.

When she turned eighteen, two things occurred in quick succession. The first was that she by rights acquired access to the small fortune her father had left her in his will, to do with as she pleased, whether that be for future schooling, or something else. The second occurrence was of a much more profound nature.

She discovered her mother was still alive.

"Wait, what?!" exclaimed Clarke, gripping Lexa's (nicely toned) arm tight. "But I thought she died during childbirth?!"

"That's what my father led me to believe," said Lexa, with a sigh.

"I can't believe he lied to you for all those years!" exploded Clarke indignantly. "I always thought he was such a great guy!"

Lexa worked her jaw, a clear indication of her displeasure. "He had his reasons," she defended, having come to terms with his deception years ago.

Releasing her death grip on her arm, Clarke calmed down a bit and said, "Yeah, hey, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," said Lexa, tight lipped, with an expression that clearly said otherwise.

"Look," muttered Clarke, suddenly ill at ease, "maybe we should continue this tom-"

"Oh no," said Lexa with a dark look, "you wanted to know. We're not stopping now."

In order to properly explain this deception, Lexa's Aunt Cyra – a woman she had only met once – needed to be brought into the equation. According to Indra, Cyra gave birth to a healthy eight and a quarter pound baby boy named Kahlo before Lexa was even alive. Kahlo was an energetic, inquisitive toddler and his mothers pride and joy. Tragically, he passed away at the tender age of six, succumbing to a violent case of pneumonia. Overcome with grief, Cyra used her ability to bring him back.

"Wait! You're not the only person with this gift!?" blurted Clarke.

"Are you going to let me tell the story or not?" said Lexa, running a hand through her hair in irritation.

"Sorry," muttered Clarke. "I was just surprised. I always thought you were one of a kind." She blushed a little at the remark and Lexa's irritation with her diminished somewhat.

Besides unintentionally murdering the girl next door in an inexplicable manner, Cyra condemned Kahlo to a half life, one where he would never grow into a young man, nor learn to become self sufficient, nor experience any of the joys life had to offer.

Mad with the unnatural being she had created, Cyra smothered the boy in his sleep and attempted to take her own life shortly thereafter. Her attempt failed and when her sister, Nyanna, discovered her and the child she had kept hidden away and re-killed, she committed Cyra to professional care. She currently resided in the Polis Asylum, madly jabbering on about her ability to bring the dead to life.

Nyanna, Lexa's mother, was understandably horrified by everything that had happened with Kahlo. Pregnant with her own child, and too far along to abort it, she decided then and there to distance herself from her baby, fearful of following down the same well meaning but terrible path as her sister. So within hours of Lexa's birth, she disappeared from the hospital, never to be seen again.

After this chilling rendition, Clarke simply sat there, staring at Lexa in a mingling of dismay and melancholy. Slowly, her voice returned. "I-I don't know what to say...that's a lot to take in." She searched Lexa's impassive face and took her hand. "I'm sorry, Lexa. That must have been hard to hear."

Lexa's only reply was a slight nod. It was obvious to Clarke that she was barely keeping the facade in place.

"What did you do?" asked Clarke after some moments of strained silence. "After you learned the truth?"

Lexa squeezed Clarke's hand a bit roughly, then stood up and went into her room. She returned with the unlabeled box from inside her closet. On the very top of what appeared to be piles of papers, sat a photo album. Lexa lifted this out and opened it up to the first yellowing page. Younger versions of her father (and mother) stared out at them. Clarke had seen these before, but it had been so long since the photos were taken that the colours were now faded with age. Lexa ran a fingertip over her mothers face, a face that was similar in many respects to her own. The differences had become even less pronounced now that they were roughly the same age. Both had the sculpted cheek bones, the full lips and the piercing green eyes. But her mothers nose and ears were larger, her eyebrows thinner, her forehead lower, and her hair shorter and darker. Or at least, it would have been, had the colours not been subdued.

Eventually Lexa tore her gaze away and cocked her head towards the box full of papers. "First I verified the story as much as I possibly could."

"You didn't trust Indra?" said Clarke, eyebrows raised. "I didn't know her that well but she seemed like a straight shooter to me."

"Facts can be embellished," replied Lexa. "I simply wanted to make sure I was getting the whole story."

"Okay...so then what?"

Lexa turned a few pages of the photo album and pointed to a woman who only vaguely resembled Nyanna. "I went to the asylum to speak with Aunt Cyra." She closed her eyes and grimaced. "She thought I was her sister and tried to get me to tell her how Kahlo was doing. Everything else that came out of her mouth sounded insane...even to me.

"After that I employed a private investigator to try and find her," she continued, staring out the dark window. "When I couldn't afford to pay them anymore, I took the task upon myself. I spent years of my life searching for my mother, re-following every clue the PI had unearthed, which really wasn't very much..." here she sighed deeply, "until I realized it was a pointless endeavour. If she wanted to be found, she would have."

Clarke placed her hand on her knee and squeezed. Cautiously she said, "Forgive me if I'm being really indelicate, Lexa...but maybe you can't find her because she's d-"

"She's not," snapped Lexa, though not particularly forcefully.

"But if you've never met her, and have no idea where she is...how do you _know_?"

"I just do," said Lexa stubbornly. "I can feel it." Clarke looked at her pityingly, irritating her to no end. "I'm not just being willfully hopeful, Clarke. It's hard to describe, but I've felt this..." she laid a hand on her chest, "whatever it is for as long as I can remember. I never knew what it meant. When I asked my dad, he said it was just a normal thing to feel. But when Indra told me that she hadn't died when my dad said she did, I just knew." She clutched the fabric around her heart. "It's her. She's out there somewhere and she's alive."

Clarke moved her hand over top Lexa's, causing it to relax against her heart. "How come you never told me about this?"

"Like I said, I thought everyone felt it. It didn't seem necessary to mention." She shrugged. "It wasn't like I could show you what I was feeling..."

Her words drifted off as their eyes connected. At some point during her strange narration, Clarke had shifted closer so that their thighs and shoulders were pressed together. The warmth from Clarke's thinly clothed body was radiating off of her in waves, transferring her essence into Lexa's. Melding. Irresistible as the siren's call. It would be so easy to lean over and-

But no, it was foolish to even think it, to be tempted. For they could never be.

Lexa rose to her feet, quickly putting some distance between them. "Well, now it really _is_ quite late. I should probably get some sleep. The store opens in just under seven hours."

Surprised, Clarke said, "Oh, you're working tomorrow?" Selfishly she had thought they would have more time to themselves before the real world came crashing in. "Couldn't Costia take over for a day?"

"Costia is competent enough to do so, it's true. But it wouldn't be fair of me to play hooky again."

And with that, Lexa strode into the bathroom and prepared for bed.

* * *

A soft voice was in her ear, more insistent as the seconds ticked by in her mechanical brain.

"Lexa," hissed Clarke, "get up! You've got like ten minutes before your store opens!"

Bolting up, she nearly headbutted Clarke in the face. "Sorry," she muttered. She hopped out of bed and hurried into the kitchen, prepared to put on the kettle. Except it wasn't necessary. The smell of her favourite herbal tea was already wafting towards her quivering nostrils. A bowl of cereal was ready to go as well, only the milk needed adding.

Clarke bustled past her to take a seat at her own place setting. Lexa joined her, lifting the chipped cup towards her lips. It was the perfect temperature.

Lexa stared at Clarke who was pouring herself a bowl of something sugary. When Clarke looked up, Lexa smiled fondly and said, "How did I ever survive without you?"

Whatever sadness was in her eyes melted away almost instantaneously. "I don't know, I'm pretty awesome." Then she shoved an oversized spoonful of the colourful cereal into her mouth, crunching loudly.

"You sound like Raven," she murmured to herself.

"Hurry up and eat," scolded Clarke after swallowing the exorbitant amount. She grinned, a bit of cereal already caught in her teeth. "Breakfast is the food of champions."

Lexa poured a little milk and consumed a few spoonfuls of food. "Did you know that 'breakfast of champions' was a phrase employed by Wheaties originally? One of the more famous sports legends who endorsed it was Muhammad Ali. The phrase has since taken on a different meaning, usually used in an ironic fashion. It's also the title to a strange Kurt Vonnegut book."

Clarke laughed at that, nearly spewing a mouthful of food in her face. "I haven't read much Vonnegut myself, but aren't all of his works strange?"

"That depends on your definition of strange, I suppose. Take us for example. Would you consider our situation to be strange?"

Clarke looked at her incredulously and attempted to respond but for some reason couldn't. Then her eyes widened and she hit herself in the chest a few times. It didn't take a genius to figure out she was choking. Lexa jumped out of her seat, knocking it over and went to her side. Clarke's attempts to dislodge the food were proving ineffectual. Before Lexa could even think to try the _Heimlich maneuver_ , Clarke had collapsed, scattering her bowl of dry cereal across the floor.

"Clarke!"

Panicking badly now, it took her a moment to remember how to perform CPR, having taken a class in her teen years. After thirty sharp compressions you were supposed to breathe into the persons mouth twice. She was nearing that number and she had no disposable breathing mask to use. Frantically she searched around for something to improvise this with, but came across nothing.

By the grace of God, the twenty-eighth compression yielded results and the large clump of poorly produced cereal came flying out. Clarke coughed and wheezed, air pulling into her lungs once more. "Guess there's more than one way that stuff's bad for you," she croaked, propping herself up into a sitting position.

Overcome with relief she flung herself into Clarke's embrace. It was only after they had been hugging each other for some time that she realized her jaw was touching Clarke's neck, her _bare_ neck, and she was still breathing!

Simultaneously they realized this and broke apart, staring at one another in wonder, hands on each others faces and necks. "How is this possible?" she said, overwhelmed and bewildered.

"I don't know," said Clarke, voice still raw, "but I don't intend to squander the moment." She raised an eyebrow suggestively. Lexa, taking the hint, didn't waste another second. She crashed their lips together, lost her balance and knocked Clarke all the way back to the ground with a thud. Clarke laughed in surprise, to which Lexa muttered a sheepish 'sorry' around her lips.

"Don't be," rasped Clarke, with a barely detected wink, "I like it rough."

Lexa blushed but nonetheless pulled Clarke to her feet and smashed her into the refrigerator. Then she bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. "Is that rough enough for you, Clarke?"

Clarke responded by grabbing her ass, pressing their cores together. Both their pyjama bottoms were of a thin material so she could feel how wet Clarke was, and the fact that she wasn't wearing any underwear. Lexa groaned into the sensation and kissed Clarke hard and desperately, arms holding Clarke to her body securely. Lexa pressed a leg hard between Clarke's thighs making the red haired woman gasp and immediately begin to grind herself against. Clarke's tongue made a particularly pleasurable movement against her own.

Groaning again, Lexa grabbed Clarke's own ass, hands trailing to the bottoms of her upper thighs and lifted her up. She deposited Clarke on the counter top without ceremony and then proceeded to pull off her soft cotton shirt. "Is this okay?" she murmured.

Clarke simply grabbed the back of her head, tugging her hair a bit and directed her mouth towards her chest. It was even more glorious now that the colour of life imbued it. Lexa eagerly latched on, enjoying the breathy response. Clarke arched into her mouth, and again when Lexa ran her other hand up Clarke's side and onto the second target. She fondled, sucked and tugged with increasing urgency, her own arousal coursing through her.

Kissing lower, Clarke's breath hitched more and more, until Lexa stopped, and kneeling, yanked off Clarke's pants, rendering her completely nude. She kissed her foot then back up Clarke's leg, nipping slightly at her soft inner thighs. When she reached the source of the wetness, Clarke whined and Lexa couldn't control herself any longer. She buried her tongue into Clarke's slick velvet, prodding in and out and all around with vigour. Clarke writhed and panted in pleasure, holding onto her hair for dear life.

It wasn't long before Clarke was sent over the edge to find her inner bliss. Lexa barely gave Clarke a chance to breathe before she replaced her mouth with three fingers, plunging them in without warning and pumping without mercy.

"Oh my God, Lexa," moaned Clarke, her muscles beginning to clench once more. "You're a...sex goddess. I...knew you would...be."

This time Lexa helped her ride the aftershocks out, and before she knew what was happening, Clarke had pinned her against the kitchen table, kissing her soundly.

"Your turn hero," she panted.

Then she flipped Lexa around, pulled her pants and underwear down and bent her over. Lexa jolted when she felt a slap to the ass and Costia saying, "Mrs. Jefferson wants to know when her order of hydrangeas will be in, what should I tell her?"

She woke with a start, and a dully throbbing side; her side wasn't the only part of her that was throbbing. Disoriented, she rolled onto her back and noticed she was lying on the living room carpet, her blanket tangled around her feet.

She had fallen off the couch while dreaming about ravishing her best friend.

 _So much for not falling into temptation_ , she grumbled to herself. _Stupid subconscious!_

She groaned internally when she sat up and realized just how uncomfortably wet she was. Her underwear _and_ pants were completely ruined. If she wanted to have any chance of getting some rest for the remaining two hours and twenty-six minutes before the store opened, she would need to change. When she pushed herself to her feet, she glanced down and noticed the large wet patch on one of the cushions. Lexa flushed more in irritation than embarrassment. She walked to the window ledge, scooped up the small watering can and unscrewed the top. Then she wet a kitchen towel and cleaned it off as best she could. Even if it did leave a stain - which was doubtful considering the couch was dark blue - it wouldn't matter since she simply flipped the cushion upside down when it had dried somewhat.

Now came the tricky part. In order to get a change of clothes, she had to go into her bedroom. Where Clarke was. If she made one false step she might rouse Clarke, which could lead to a very awkward encounter. The fact that the thump she must have produced when she fell hadn't awoken Clarke gave her hope that this foray would also be uneventful.

Lexa stepped lightly across the carpeted floor and over to her bedroom door. She turned the handle and opened it ever so slowly. Then, like a thief in the night, she crept into the room and over to her dresser. The first drawer contained her underwear supply and was therefore light and never problematic. She slipped a hand in blindly and retrieved a fresh pair. The bottom drawer, however, where her pants resided, was rather heavier and often made a clunking sound. Very carefully she slid it open a crack. Then another. Then another. On the fourth tug it scraped ever so slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, then glanced over the two feet to where Clarke was.

She appeared to be unaffected, breathing uninterrupted, albeit, somewhat fast for someone who was sleeping. Lexa frowned but otherwise ignored this, returning to the dresser and shimmying it open far enough for her to find her spare pair of pyjama bottoms, the ones with the horses on them.

Just as carefully she closed the drawer. She was nearly out the door when Clarke's voice stopped her in her tracks. Stiffly, Lexa turned to face her, awaiting humiliation. Instead she witnessed Clarke moaning her name. Lexa's jaw dropped and her feet carried her almost to the bed before she got a hold of herself. She physically shook her head to clear her mind and then promptly put some distance between them.

Heart racing, she leaned against the outside of the bedroom door, clothes bunched tight in her hands. She had a funny feeling that even if she changed her soiled garments, she wouldn't be getting back to sleep tonight.

It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

 **Sunday Sin...fake but the best you're gonna get with this fic lol**

 **Raven was right. Lexa's so fucked. Poor baby.**

 **Yeah, so I decided to explore the kind of darker implications of the ability. Having a 3 year old dog STAY 3 years old for 18 years works...not so much with a human child...now I understand why they conveniently left out children entirely from the show (except for in flashbacks with Ned and Chuck).**


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Clarke woke up, the store was already open and she could hear the sounds of subdued activity below. There was a blue sticky note on the lamp beside the bed that read, ' _Sorry we missed each other this morning. Lunch at one_?'

Clarke smiled to herself, stretched again and got out of bed. She smiled wider when she opened the closet and saw her new clothes hung up beside Lexa's own. She could get used to this, sharing a space, sharing a home. She just needed to figure out a way for them to share a bed together, and everything would be perfect. Clarke used 'everything' very loosely in this domestic scenario.

After donning a pair of boot cut jeans and a black ribbed tank top, she brushed her hair and then braided it. She hadn't done this in ages, so it took several tries to achieve something that wasn't a complete disaster. She stuck the daisy securely through the smaller braid she had done on the side of her head. The welt on her neck had faded slightly but was still too obvious, so she applied liberal amounts of concealer to it, substantially lessening its sickening effect. Satisfied with this look, she brushed her teeth and made her way downstairs.

Someone was struggling to carry a large bag of soil to the cash register where an older, frail looking woman was waiting, with a cart full of soon to be planted flowers, so Clarke went over to take the other end. An attractive hazel eyed black woman was revealed to her with this action. Today she was dressed in a different flower dress and high heels. A dirty apron covered and sustained her front. Costia glared at her when she realized who was offering their help. Perhaps she had thought, or rather _hoped_ Clarke would've already vacated the premises. Still, she didn't object and together they heaved the monstrosity onto the checkout counter.

It took ages for the old woman to figure out how to use her credit card, and Clarke had to stifle a laugh at the feigned look of understanding on Costia's face. Finally with that sorted, the old woman wheeled the cart outdoors, leaving Costia to deal with the bag of soil again. Without a word, Clarke offered her services again, and together they carried the thing out to the old woman's car, which thankfully was parked just outside in the handicapped spot. Clarke had no idea how the woman was going to manage it on her own, but it wasn't their problem anymore.

Costia waved goodbye to the woman and then turned to face Clarke. "Thanks," she said begrudgingly. "I hate when people go for the big bags of soil or fertilizer."

"Why didn't she just get some smaller bags?" asked Clarke as they made their way back into the store.

"Believe me, I suggested that myself, but she was set on getting the discount." Costia rolled her eyes. "She saved like fifty cents." There was a lull in the conversation in which she took the opportunity to subtly peruse her again. "Didn't take you for a redhead," she said idly, making Clarke stiffen slightly. "You look nice today, Claire."

"So do you, Costia," returned Clarke, after a moments confusion. "That dress really suits you."

There weren't any other customers in the store so Costia continued to grace her with her presence, as well as more questions. "What are you up to today?"

Honestly, she hadn't really thought about it yet, but Costia had a point, which became plainer as time marched on.

"If you've never been to Polis before, you should go sight seeing. There's a cool little art museum across town that has all sorts of interesting exhibits. Most have to do with nature, but in a kind of futuristic way."

"You're talking about _The Glowing Forest_ , aren't you?"

"Oh, you've been already?" said Costia with a foiled look. "Well in that case, might I suggest _Faya Tower_? It's an incredible view from the top. Great for selfies."

Amused at Costia's attempts to get rid of her, she replied, "I don't actually have a cellphone."

This garnered her the most affronted look yet. "What do you mean, you don't have a cellphone? _Everyone_ has a cellphone. My seven year old nephew has a cellphone!"

"Well, I don't," she said simply. _It's most likely sitting in the evidence locker down at the 100th precinct._

Before Costia could respond to this, Lexa appeared from the back lot with a trowel in hand. Her hair was also done up differently today, pulled back into a messy top bun. She looked between them in a startled manner, which she quickly masked, and then asked Costia to go help Ms. Clineman choose between two nearly identical looking red dragon tails in the greenhouse.

When they were alone Lexa said, "Clarke, what are you doing down here? Didn't you see my note?"

No good morning, no nothing. Clarke was a little peeved. She was expecting to get complimented on her appearance. It took her nearly an hour to get her hair just like it had been when they were children, albeit rather redder. How is it that Costia, the woman who was less than fond of her, managed to appreciate her efforts, but _not_ Lexa?

She crossed her arms, non-verbally displaying her displeasure. "I thought we agreed that I didn't have to stay up in your ivory tower?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"There's not much to do up there."

"I know, but-"

"So I think I'll take Costia's advice and go do some sight seeing. It's been a long time since I've been a tourist in my own city."

Lexa gaped at this declaration, and before she could react, Clarke had left the building. Lexa chased after her, trowel still in hand, eliciting some unwanted attention. "Clarke, you can't just go off like this!" she hissed under her breath.

"Watch me," retorted Clarke, power walking away from her.

When the obstinate girl attempted to cross the street, Lexa grabbed her arm, without even thinking. Fortunately she was wearing gardening gloves. "You don't have any money. You don't even have a cellphone!"

"Why does everyone keep harping on about that!" exclaimed Clarke. "We managed for thousands of years without them!" Clarke yanked her arm out of Lexa's grip, annoyed to see the finger shaped dirt prints. "I'm not going to sit around everyday like some bored housewife waiting for her husband to get home! Leave me alone, Lexa," she warned, "or I'll go straight to the cops!"

Lexa watched helplessly as Clarke stormed off, completely bewildered by her hostile attitude. All she could do was hope that Clarke would come back to her. Without a cellphone, she would never be able to find her again.

* * *

Her indignation subsided quickly after that outburst, replaced by reluctant admission. Lexa was right, it was stupid to have gone off without so much as a cellphone in her pocket. Polis was vast, and without even enough change for a subway ticket, she wasn't going to be getting very far, very fast, let alone doing any sightseeing. She thought about turning back, but that would've only proven that she was wrong, giving Lexa even more reason to never let her leave Grounders.

Not that she thought Lexa was being a control freak, not exactly. Their predicament was unusual, to say the least. Twice now she had caught her face on a discarded bit of newspaper. At the moment, her hair was the only thing distinguishing them apart, planting doubt in any onlookers minds.

When she calmed down enough to really pay attention to her surroundings, she at first thought she was completely lost, then was surprised to realize she really wasn't all that far away from her condo. Just one more block would see her there. To think she and Lexa had lived so close to one another for months if not years of time was astonishing. In a city this large, the chances were astronomical. She wondered how they had never bumped into one another. Then, more disheartening, she wondered if perhaps they _had_ , more than once, but she hadn't recognized Lexa at the time. What if they had been passing each other on the streets like ships in the night for years and never realized it?

But no, she didn't think this was the case. She was sure she would have known Lexa anywhere, in any time. Their connection was that strong.

Clarke's curiousity got the best of her and she headed straight for her condo. She held back as she neared the tall, imposing structure, scouting out the area. As far as she could tell, there was no police presence out front. Lexa had seemed to think the entire building would be on lock down, even though her body was found outside. Even so, Clarke couldn't just walk through the front door and ride the elevator up to the ninth floor. On top of the security cameras, and the lack of key card, there was Nathan, Bryan, or Ryder to contend with. Having chatted with all of them on more than one occasion, all of them would know her on sight, regardless of hair colour.

So Clarke circumnavigated to the back (locked) entrance, where there were no (functional) cameras. Here she found evidence of the police, in the form of yellow tape. She stared for a moment at the place where they found her body, and then moved a trash can under the fire escape ladder so that she could just barely reach its bottom rungs.

Not in the best physical shape, it was quite the struggle to pull herself up to the first landing. Once she was there however, it was clear sailing until the ninth floor. She had purposely paid for direct access to this escape route. This also meant the window here had added security. Short of breaking it, setting off a silent alarm, she wasn't going to be able to get in. At least, that _should_ have been the case. For whatever reason, the window was partially propped open. She listened for any signs of occupancy, but found none.

Continuing her daredevil streak, she slid the window up higher and climbed in. The place looked much as it always had. Apparently the police hadn't gone through her things. They didn't have a reason to after all. No crime was committed here. She smirked to herself, wondering if this technically counted as breaking and entering. By law, she was dead. This condo wasn't hers anymore.

After mindlessly wandering around for a few minutes, she thought of an actual good use to being here. Clarke went to her closet and pulled out the brand new backpack she had purchased, with the intent of going hiking with Octavia and Lincoln. She hadn't been looking forward to that excursion at the time, but now she would give anything to be able to go, to have them laugh at her inability to keep up.

She sighed, carrying the backpack into her office. She pressed on a seemingly inconspicuous piece of paneling. It retracted, revealing her hidden safe. She input the code - the date she graduated from med school - and the light turned green. Inside was her fathers broken watch, about thirty thousand dollars of emergency funds, her passport, and a pistol; a semi-automatic Smith and Wesson. The latter she had only purchased in the last year, when things had gone seriously downhill with Finn, around the same time the restraining order had been granted. Besides one time in a shooting range, she had never even fired it. She didn't even have additional ammo.

After a moment's consideration, she emptied the safe into the backpack. Being comprised of hundreds, the bills numbered precisely three hundred, and did not actually take up that much room. Still, with the solid gun in there too, it was heavy enough.

Just as she was zipping up, she heard the lock to the condo turn.

 _Shit!_

Quickly, she closed the safe and the panel and hid inside the closet. Ignoring this irony, she listened intently, hoping whoever it was would be gone soon enough so that she could make her escape. Two pairs of footsteps could be heard, one more hesitant than the other. The muttering of soft voices (one male, one female) was emanating from her bedroom now, which was just the next room over. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she didn't dare venture forth. That is, until she heard a woman sobbing.

Cautiously, Clarke moved out of her safe haven and nearer to the source of distress. Her own distress was magnified keenly when she recognized the man's voice, the one attempting to comfort the woman.

"...have to stay," said Marcus Kane. "If this is too hard for you, we can just go right now."

"No," replied her mother, when she had some control over her voice, "I want to be here. I _need_ to be here."

Marcus Kane was a hospital administrator that worked directly under her mother (in more ways than one). Clarke had suspected they were in a relationship for some time now. For whatever reason, her mother had deemed it necessary to hide this from her, which was silly since she wasn't a child any longer, and arguably hadn't been since her father died. Clarke was glad that she wouldn't be alone through her grief, that she had someone to look after her.

"Okay," was the only reply. Then there was silence for many minutes, interspersed with the occasional sniffle.

There was literally nothing stopping her from showing her face right now, putting an end to this all too familiar pain. It would be a shock of course for her to simply waltz right into the room, but once that passed, she could take her mothers hand and explain the situation to her.

Or could she?

There wasn't really a logical reason for why she was currently alive. Part of the reason Clarke had followed in her mothers footsteps was to try and understand Lexa's gift, to maybe one day be able to artificially replicate it, sans side effects. Years ago she had started a side project that she intermittently worked on. Unfortunately, nothing she had ever read had come close to explaining the phenomenon. Now that she knew it was passed down genetically though, she was even more convinced that it was a mutation of some sort, one that she could isolate if she took a dna sample...and had unfettered access to a research lab.

Still, she doubted her mother would care very much as to _why_ she was alive, just that she _was_. Clarke ached to just do it, to just show herself, but she couldn't. Exposing herself meant exposing Lexa, and that wasn't something she was willing to do just yet, not with Marcus there. It wasn't that she didn't trust Marcus, it was more that she didn't _know_ him. Their paths had rarely crossed at the hospital, and even less frequently outside of it. If her mom was still dating him, he was probably a good guy, would probably keep this secret, but she didn't know for sure, so she couldn't risk it. She had already gambled enough today as it was.

So with a heavy heart, she shouldered the backpack more securely and left the way she had come.

* * *

Overwhelmed by a number of troubling thoughts, she unknowingly wandered around the city until her stomach rumbled and her back ached and her feet felt like they were on pins and needles. This time she truly had no idea where she was, other than the fact that the area didn't seem the friendliest, and more than one off putting person had eyed her with interest. Added to this distress, the sun was beginning its slow descent. Darkness would be falling within a few hours. Thankfully, she had a horde of bills to see her way 'home'. She sat on a bench covered in graffiti, a welcome relief to her tingling tissues, and nervously awaited the next taxi, feeling as though the money strapped to her back were a bomb about to go off.

Finally, with a huge sigh of relief, she hailed a cab and told him where to go. When Clarke entered Grounders again, bell chiming, Lexa looked over from behind the cash register where she was on the phone with what sounded like an incredibly slow customer. Clarke wondered if it was the same old woman from that morning.

Besides frowning at the backpack, she didn't even react to Clarke's presence, though Clarke could feel her eyes following her all the way up the stairs and into the apartment, which she had neglected to lock, which was just as well as she didn't have her own key yet.

She dumped the backpack on the coffee table and took a seat, waiting. Sure enough, Lexa made an appearance not long after. Impassively, she walked over to the backpack and unzipped it. Lexa looked inside for a long moment then glanced at Clarke, face still unreadable. Then, slowly, she clenched her fists, working her jaw back and forth. Clarke knew that sign well. Lexa was seriously pissed.

"You went to your condo," she said, tightly.

It wasn't a question but Clarke answered all the same, slightly breathless, ready for the fallout. "Yes."

But there was no fallout. Lexa simply jerked her head and walked away.

 _What the hell?_ she thought, bewildered.

If she were smarter she would have waited until Lexa cooled off a bit before approaching her again. Lexa didn't often get visibly angry, but when she did, it was absolutely terrifying. But Clarke wanted to reassure her that nothing happened, that she hadn't been spotted, that their secret was still safe, so she hurried down the stairs after her.

She waited for Lexa to finish pointing out where the hose nozzles were to a young man and then tried to strike up a conversation. Except Lexa willfully ignored her and headed into the back lot instead, were Costia was collecting empty plastic trays of plant holders. Costia watched them curiously, no doubt internally gloating over the fact that Lexa wouldn't give her the time of day.

"Lexa, _please_ ," she practically whined. "Just let me explain."

Nostrils flaring, like a bull about to charge, she told Costia to go see if the man inside needed any help making a selection and then to close up shop after he was done and go home. Costia's not so hidden smirk fell flat, and Clarke imagined she heard the woman grumbling under her breath as she went back inside.

Finally, Lexa's dark, intimidating gaze landed on her own. "Well," she said impatiently. "Explain."

Now that it came down to it, she really didn't have a good excuse for going there, especially not in the middle of the day. Sure the money would come in handy further down the line, but it wasn't an immediate necessity. As for the gun, well...

"That's what I thought," snapped Lexa dismissively, stalking into the greenhouse.

Like a fool, she followed her inside. Housing tropical plants, it was even more humid than she was expecting. The fact that it was pretty cramped only exacerbated the uncomfortable sensation.

Lexa whirled on her, nearly knocking some plants over, jaw working to and fro again. "Get out!" she snarled.

"Lexa, it's not that big a deal," she said standing her ground, though she was a bit afraid, which was ridiculous considering she had faced off with an actual gang leader once who was less than enthused with her medical performance. "Nothing happened. You don't have to worry-"

"But I _do_ worry, Clarke," Lexa retorted, gripping her upper arms. Not enough to hurt, but hard enough to feel Lexa's pent up tension through those same dirty gardening gloves. "Your cavalier attitude isn't exactly helping to reduce my anxiety." Her eyes flashed to Clarke's hair, it seemed a strange moment to decide to finally compliment her handiwork. "Where's your daisy?"

"It's not there?" she said in a small voice, hoping to God she hadn't lost it in her condo for her mother to find.

Lexa closed her eyes, grip tightening, neck muscles tensing. "Clarke, you're driving me insane!"

Apparently in more ways than one. Clarke had noticed Lexa's soiled clothing in the hamper this morning. Full of herself, she assumed that she was the cause. It seemed a reasonable assumption after how red Lexa got as she tried on progressively skimpier clothing. Not to mention the sultry looks she had been giving her while dancing. Clarke had planned to tease Lexa about her nocturnal emissions, but then they had butted heads for basically no reason, and the chance was lost. Now didn't seem like a particularly good time either.

And yet, "you're driving me insane too," slipped out before she could stop it.

Lexa's eyes snapped open, boring into Clarke's. Then they followed a trail of sweat dripping from her neck and down into her cleavage. When her gaze came back up, it was markedly different, full of want. Full of lust. Clarke's own excitement was quickly rising, though she didn't know what to do about it.

Looking at her lips, Lexa leaned forward slightly, then thought better of that, and pulled back, stamping her foot into the cement floor in frustration. She looked like a child on the verge of having a temper tantrum, her favourite toy locked away.

The dilemma was obvious, how to touch without touching. At first glance it was a seemingly impossible conundrum to solve. In reality, it wasn't half so complicated.

"Lexa," said Clarke huskily, breaking through her foul mood, "let go of me."

As if in a daze, Lexa obeyed. Clarke flexed her hands a few times and then placed the right one on Lexa's hip. Nudging her sideways gently and into a table, she held Lexa's gaze as she moved her left hand onto her upper thigh.

"Hold onto the table behind you with both hands." A faint smirk graced her lips. "I know it'll probably be difficult, but try not to move too much."

Understanding her intent, Lexa nodded, breaths already coming out in faster, irregular spurts. Clarke shifted her left hand slightly closer to its destination and then stopped, a flicker of doubt crossing her mind.

Was she really about to do this? Was she really about to do this with her childhood friend that she hadn't seen in eighteen years and only just been reunited with?

It may have been soon, but it felt right. Within hours of being around Lexa again, the childish awkwardness had vanished, the mental image of the lanky little girl eradicated. In its place had been an increasingly painful awareness and appreciation for just how hot Lexa had become. She was seriously supermodel hot, and combined with her mysterious aura, she could probably get any girl she wanted without much effort.

A flash of jealousy consumed her for a moment. Just how many girls had Lexa been with since they parted? If she hadn't been so pigheaded herself, they could've been together all this time...perhaps even _married_. They could've been having hot sex everyday for the past decade. Short of finding a time machine, there was nothing she could do about that now. She could however ease some of Lexa's current stresses.

"Are you sure?" she asked, breaking the heated silence, air thick as much from the external environment as the internal one.

Once more Lexa dipped her head, exhaling shakily. "Touch me, Clarke."

Decision absolutely made, she moved her hand to Lexa's vaguely damp crotch, lightly cupping her. Lexa groaned as Clarke added more pressure with the heel of her hand, but otherwise kept still as instructed. Smirking some more, she began to rock the heel of her hand ever so slowly, torturous.

When the teasing got to be too much, Lexa jerked her hips, whined, "Clarke!" and Clarke took pity on her, rocking her hand faster and harder. Moaning, Lexa threw her head back, trembling with the effort to keep her hands in place, to not give into the strong desire to touch Clarke back. Clarke was captivated and thrilled by the sounds emanating from her best friend. She had never expected to hear such things, but now that she had, she would do anything to keep them going.

Still moving her hand, she dropped to her knees. Like Indiana Jones, she swapped her hand for her mouth so swiftly that Lexa didn't even notice for the first few seconds. Then she gasped at the sensation of Clarke's hands on her inner thighs, pushing her pants upwards as taut as possible, the better to feel Clarke's mouth with. To get through the layers of clothing and provide a decent level of stimulation, Clarke had to be quite aggressive with her ministrations, and consequently she was all but chomping chunks out of Lexa's crotch.

Nearing the finish line, one of Lexa's hands had migrated to her head, disobeying orders. Too intent on her task, Clarke didn't bother to scold her. Keeping her in place had been less of a sex thing and more of a staying alive thing. Quite aroused herself, she stuck a hand down her pants and got to work, panting along with Lexa. With unyielding fingers, Clarke rubbed Lexa out the rest of the way, fast and furious. Lexa came, mostly silently, tugging on her hair to the point of pain. Clarke licked once at the resulting surge of liquid through her pants, tasting more of the fabric than anything else, but enjoying the hint of tang and musk all the same. She finished herself off not long after this, shuddering and leaning her forehead into Lexa's leg. Sweat was dripping off both their bodies and Clarke wanted nothing more than to shed her sticky clothing. She imagined Lexa felt much the same way considering her situation down below. _Not unlike last night,_ she snickered internally.

It was within moments of this thought that a familiar voice exclaimed, "Santa mierda!"

Startled, they turned to find Raven in the greenhouse entryway. Once she too had gotten over her initial shock, she looked at Lexa and grinned. "Told you you'd be fucked."

* * *

 **chomping chunks out of lexa's crotch...the most poetic i've ever been, agree or disagree?**


	8. Chapter 8

**was gonna post this later but whatevs, here ya go!**

* * *

"Does this count as necrophilia?"

Moments ago Lexa had experienced some much needed relief at the hands of the love of her life, and though she was pleased Raven was here talking to her again, it wasn't exactly an ideal situation. As well, her insensitive nature on Clarke's unlikely existence was less than welcome, and set her off.

"She's not dead," said Lexa, sidling past a still kneeling Clarke to face Raven. She did her best to ignore the uncomfortable wetness between her thighs as she moved. "She _was_ dead. Now she's not. Clarke's just as much alive as you or I. I really don't appreciate you demeaning her existence like that."

Unfazed, Raven shrugged. "I'm _so_ sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities," she said, looking at her somewhat coldly. Lexa understood that her past actions had not been completely forgiven yet. So why was she here?

Raven moved further away, into the air conditioned store for the purposes of privacy. Clarke and Lexa followed, glad for a reprieve from the overbearing humidity.

Without preamble Raven glanced at Clarke and said, "Your mothers put out a considerable reward for any information on your bodies whereabouts."

As if she'd been slapped, Clarke flinched. "I see," she replied without emotion.

"And why would she do that?" asked Lexa, placing a hand on Clarke's forearm and squeezing.

"The police still have no fucking clue about anything morgue related."

Lexa was glad to hear it. This meant that Raven was safe for the time being.

"Their best guess is that an accomplice of Collins's stole the body to try and dispose of physical evidence."

"But that doesn't make any sense," said Lexa, when Clarke made no signs of speaking. "Why steal one body and leave behind another?"

"Like I said," said Raven gruffly, "they've got no fucking clue what's going on. Which is good news for us."

"Okay," said Lexa, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of a gardening glove, inadvertently smearing it with dirt residue. "I'm confused though, Raven. Why did you drive all the way out here for this update? You could have easily just phoned to tell us this."

 _You could have easily avoided interrupting us_ , is what she really meant, and Raven knew it judging by the smug glint in her eye.

Raven looked between the two of them briefly and said, "That's not all I have to say."

For a second Lexa thought she was going to forgive her for her trespasses. Instead, "There's some division within the force. Some believe Collins is innocent. My contact for one." Raven stared at Clarke. "Is he right?"

Clarke, who had been staring off into space, set her sights on Raven. "I don't know," she replied, a little sedately.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" scoffed Raven. "You were there, weren't you?"

"Well, yes, I was," returned Clarke, coming back to herself more fully. She gestured to her throat, where the welt had been partially exposed from the concealer due to copious amounts of sweat. "But they attacked from behind so I didn't exactly get the best look at them."

"Okay, you didn't see anything," pressed Raven, ignoring Lexa's warning glare, "but maybe you _smelled_ something. Like a familiar aftershave or cologne or _something_."

"I was a little too preoccupied with the whole not dying thing to try and _smell_ them," replied Clarke sarcastically.

Before her disgruntled friend could retort to this, Lexa said, "This would hardly be the first time the victim couldn't provide us with an accurate account of their murderer."

She winced at her clinical phrasing but Clarke didn't seem particular perturbed. "Anyway, if that's all you have to say, Raven," said Clarke, tugging on her soaked tank top, "I'd really like to go take a shower and eat something. It's been a long day."

"Jesus," said Raven looking between them in mild wonderment, "just how long have you two been at it for?"

It took Lexa a moment to understand her meaning. She blanched at Raven's mistaken notion. "We weren't...doing _that_ all day," she said quickly. "Clarke's been... otherwise engaged."

"Cryptic much? You know I'm a PI, right? I'll get to the bottom of this one way or another, so you might as well tell me now what blondie's been up to."

"In case you hadn't noticed, my hair's red now," said Clarke, rolling her eyes. "And since it apparently means that much to you...I went to my place today to get some things-"

"You what?!" exclaimed Raven. "Are you a fucking idiot?!"

Raven looked at Lexa like she expected her to back her up. Lexa was still disappointed in Clarke, but she was far too tired and far too smart to take Raven's side. When no one said anything else, Clarke took the opportunity to escape upstairs to tear into some cold leftover pizza from last night. After washing that down with some wine, she hopped into the shower to rinse away the grime of her solo adventure.

In the meantime, Lexa had to contend with an incredulous Raven for some minutes until she finally calmed down. Then she headed upstairs herself, Raven tagging along. As Lexa warmed up the last of Costia's lasagna, Raven helped herself to some barbecue potato chips, teasing her about what she saw in the greenhouse. Perhaps she had forgiven her after all?

"I just can't believe you two already fucked!" she chuckled. "I mean, it was really lame middle school fucking, but impressive all the same!" She slapped Lexa on the back, something Raven knew she hated. Lexa curled her hand around her fork, willing the microwave to beep soon so that she didn't stab Raven instead. "I'm so proud my girl finally got some action. I guess she really was worth it."

"I didn't bring Clarke back to use her as a sex object, Raven," bristled Lexa, staring her down. "You know she means a lot more to me than _that_."

"Fair enough," conceded Raven, tones still slightly giddy. She glanced at Lexa slyly, eyes flitting to her wet crotch briefly. "So does this mean you're gonna keep your hands to yourself from here on out? Cherish her from afar, and all that crap?"

When Lexa hesitated, Raven smirked, said, "That a girl," and popped another chip into her mouth. "If you want, I can help you devise something."

"What do you mean?" she frowned, utterly lost.

Raven rolled her eyes. "You want to fuck her again, right?"

"Do you always have to be so crude?" sighed Lexa. "Can't you say make love?"

"Sure, _I'm_ the one that's disgusting," said Raven, making a face. "Anyway, you know I dabble with different inventions here and there-"

"Actually, I didn't."

"Well, you do now," said Raven dismissively. "I'm positive I could build you something that would let you properly fu... _make love_ , to your not dead lady friend. I just need to know, what are the exact limits of this no touching thing? Is there a specific thickness of material required to negate your ability?"

"Maybe," said Lexa slowly, "I'm not really sure." She nodded to her gardening gloves on the counter. "Those have been sufficient so far." She raised her fork and pointed it in her direction. "Before you get any ideas, I'm not about to experiment and risk killing her."

"Suit yourself," shrugged Raven. "But if I could make you a full bodied suit as thin as a condom, letting you feel _everything_ she's got to offer, wouldn't you want that?"

Before Lexa could respond to that simultaneously bizarre and enticing mental image, the microwave beeped, disrupting the conversation for the moment.

Half way through eating her lasagna, Clarke emerged from the bathroom in nothing more than a towel, steam billowing out behind her. Lexa stared at her as she bent over to retrieve a fallen sock. As she deposited this in the hamper, along with her soiled clothing - the pile was getting higher and higher of this variety - she caught Lexa's gaze, smiled and winked.

Flushing at being caught out, Lexa returned to her dinner, ignoring Raven's snort.

Dressed in a different, more cushy ensemble, Clarke came out of the bedroom. She rubbed at her hair with the towel, sighing in contentment. "There's nothing like being clean," she said, taking a seat opposite both Raven and Lexa. "I'm pretty sure I left you some hot water," she continued, looking at her.

"How thoughtful," said Lexa dryly. Her plate was clean, unlike her pants which had received an additional deposit after Clarke bent over, nearly exposing heretofore unknown lands. "I suppose I should go make use of your generous leftovers."

She got up from the table. Before she headed to the bathroom, she gave Raven a look, as if to say, behave or else. Chances were this wouldn't work. Raven did and said whatever the hell she wanted. Lexa envied her that most of the time, except for when it got her into trouble. To prevent Clarke's harassment as much as possible, Lexa decided to have a fast shower.

"So, Clarke," said Raven casually as soon as the bathroom door closed, "are you in love with Lexa?"

Clarke half choked on another slice of cold meat lovers pizza. She took a gulp of water and washed it all down. Once she was composed, she looked at Raven dead on and replied, "Yes."

Raven laughed lightly. "Damn, I thought it'd be a lot harder to pry that out of you. I'm glad it wasn't. I'm glad you're not jerking her around. Lexa deserves only the best."

"For sure," nodded Clarke. After a pause, "Does this mean you've forgiven her?"

"If I hadn't," said Raven nonchalantly, "would I have offered to make her a condom suit so you two could get it on for real?"

Clarke spit out her water and Raven smirked. "You...you _what_?!"

"It wouldn't be that difficult...I don't _think_ ," continued Raven, still in that unconcerned air, as if they were discussing their favourite colours, "but Lexa's concerned about the _risk_." She grinned. "She doesn't think it'll be _safe_."

The irony of these statements in relation to the subject matter wasn't lost on her, but her mind was reeling at the possibility of actually getting to touch Lexa to that degree, so she didn't grin back. Even if a condom level of material was thick enough to offset Lexa's ability, there was always the possibility of some part of it tearing.

"Could you guarantee it'll be rip proof?" she asked, a little too eagerly, eliciting another grin. "Like one hundred percent safe?"

"Nothing's foolproof, Clarke," said Raven, hand unconsciously on her thigh, just above her brace, "that's what makes life interesting."

When Lexa emerged from the shower a few minutes later, she relaxed when she found Clarke to be laughing at something Raven was saying. Reassured, she took her time getting dressed before joining them in the kitchen.

"Hey, babe, that was fast," said Clarke as she approached. Lexa blushed at the term of endearment and the way Clarke's eyes quickly roved over her figure, clearly liking what they saw. "Raven here was just telling me all about your first dancing lesson together," her eyes flashed, "and how you 'accidentally' tripped and grabbed her ass."

" _Raven_ ," groaned Lexa. "Why are you telling her embarrassing stories about me?"

"You mean there's more than _one_?" quipped Clarke.

Lexa fake scowled at their smug looks and reclaimed her previous seat.

"Well now that you two have freshened up," said Raven loudly clasping her hands together, grabbing their attention from yet another staring contest. "I think it's time we got down to business."

"I thought we already did," said Lexa. Then in alarm, she wondered if she was about to bring up the ridiculous, dangerous idea she had had earlier, mortifying her into the next dimension.

"As I was saying before," said Raven, practically over her, "the police don't know diddly squat about the morgue murder. However, with very few exceptions, they're pretty much convinced Collins is their man in relation to yours, Clarke. Everything points to him. And they found a lock of your hair in his possession, which is creepy as fuck." Clarke shifted uncomfortably. "On top of that, he has a history of going into fugue states, so his flimsy alibi of being at home alone sleeping might be complete bull."

"Fugue state?" questioned Lexa. She was well read, but she didn't know everything, despite what some may say.

It was Clarke's turn to answer. "It's a dissociative disorder generally triggered by stress. It's pretty rare. Besides Finn, I'd never come across anyone who had it. Patients can go places and do things without conscience thought, kind of like sleep walkers, except they're not asleep. They can even create an alternate identity while in this state. The effects are usually short lived but can be fairly prolonged...up to months of time. When they come out of it, they're typically confused, and the memories of their time in fugue, may or may not return to them."

"That sounds terrifying," shuddered Lexa. "Not having control of yourself. Not knowing when you're next going to be triggered." Lexa looked to Clarke. "So Finn was a patient of yours initially?"

"Yeah," she admitted eventually, not making eye contact. "He hurt himself during one of his episodes and I patched him up after the fact. He was really sweet and charming...at first." She dropped her shoulders. "I never thought he was capable of hurting anyone...but now...now I'm not so sure."

"They've officially charged him with your murder," said Raven, helpfully. "Your body going missing is a technicality. It only would've made a difference if you had gone missing _before_ they confirmed you were dead. So the whole, no body, no crime bullshit, isn't going to fly here."

"What is your point, Raven?" said Lexa, a little exasperated to be covering the same ground over and over again, especially since it was clearly making Clarke uncomfortable.

"My point, Lexa, is that Collins _will_ go down for this." She looked to Clarke. "Unless we intervene."

"And why would we want to do that?" scoffed Lexa. "He harassed and stalked Clarke relentlessly until she was forced to get a restraining order against him."

"So, because he's a troubled asshole, he's automatically a murderer?" shot back Raven, eyes narrowed. She glanced at Clarke again. "This really comes down to you, Clarke. Are you willing to let him take the fall for something he might not have done, or will you put aside your personal feelings and help me investigate this further?"

Clarke worried her bottom lip as she contemplated this decision. Lexa did not like Raven putting her on the spot, needlessly stressing Clarke out.

"If you're such a great PI, why do you even _need_ Clarke's assistance?"

"I don't," returned Raven bluntly. "But whatever insider information Clarke can provide me with will make this investigation considerably faster." She raised an eyebrow at Lexa. "Surprised I need to tell _you_ that."

Lexa crossed her arms, grumbling in her seat like a four year old.

"I'll do it," said Clarke with finality. "I'll help you. What do you want to know?"

"For starters," said Raven, "I want you to tell us what happened that night."

"I already told you-"

Raven waved her off. "Not about that. Tell us what happened _before_ that."

"Right." Clarke took another sip of wine before beginning. "Well...I did my shift like usual and then Octavia, a colleague of mine and one of my best friends, invited me to the movies. We went to see _Ghostbusters_." She smiled. "It was a pretty fun movie. Anyway, she brought her husband Lincoln along, as well as her brother Bellamy. She's been trying to set us up for forever, so I wasn't surprised when she and Lincoln suddenly realized they were on call that night and had to leave," Clarke rolled her eyes, "conveniently only _after_ we were back at Bellamy's place, leaving me stranded."

"And why were you stranded?" asked Raven.

"We carpooled from work to the theatre," clarified Clarke. "My car's been in the shop for ages and Octavia knows how much I hate public transit." A short pause. "So then it was just the two of us, and he made me a proper dinner, something more substantial than popcorn. We talked for a bit afterwards over a couple of beers and then Bellamy drove me home."

She paused again to take another sip of wine. "I was having troubles sleeping that night, which isn't unusual for me, so I went out for some fresh air and a smoke."

Lexa refrained from pointing out the irony there. She was just glad she didn't have to hear about Clarke kissing this Bellamy person. Even if Clarke didn't appear to like him that way, Lexa still instinctively disliked him.

Clarke swallowed hard. "And that's the last thing I remember before the noose was around my neck and I woke up in the morgue."

Silence enveloped them briefly. Lexa wanted to reach out and take Clarke's hand, but she didn't have any gloves on at the moment. She patted her knee instead.

"Why didn't you go smoke on the rooftop?" questioned Raven. "You've got all that fancy security there but you went and smoked in what is basically an unguarded alleyway."

Clarke was silent for a moment before responding. "Yeah, well, there's this homeless girl, Charlotte...we kind of had a bit of a big/little sister thing going on, even though she's not that much younger than me. She tends to have trouble sleeping too, so I thought she might be around to chat. I've been trying to convince her to go to a shelter for some time but she won't listen. She doesn't want anything to do with any institutions." Clarke shrugged. "Probably had some bad experiences that she never told me about. Anyway, she wasn't there that night, so I just went about lighting my cigarette...and that's it," she finished rather lamely.

"And you're positive you didn't see anything out of the ordinary?" said Raven.

"Not that I noticed," supplied Clarke with finality.

"So, let's assume Collins is innocent for the moment," continued Raven. "Do you know of anyone else who would want to do you harm?"

Clarke snorted at that which surprised Lexa. Just how much bad blood had Clarke incurred over the years?

"A lot of people don't like me," said Clarke. "I can be pretty unapologetic about things, big or small." Raven just gave her a look. "But in terms of wanting to murder me...I think the list is pretty small. The top of it would probably be Carl Emerson."

"And who's that?" asked Lexa, hoping they weren't yet another love interest.

"Emerson is... _was_ the head of security at the hospital."

"He was fired?" said Raven.

Clarke nodded. "Yeah. And it was my fault. Our incident report was considerably down since he took charge, we were the safest we had ever been, so HR never did anything about my complaints."

"What was he doing?"

"Emerson routinely used excessive force when dealing with suspected threats. One time he went too far and broke someone's arm while restraining them. That pushed me over the edge and I all but forced my mom to get rid of him, and to blacklist him from other hospitals. As you can imagine, he wasn't too happy about that. We had...words."

"Did he threaten you?"

"You mean, did he threaten to kill me? No. Not outright. But he was obviously very upset...and I wouldn't put it past him to lash out in violence."

"Okay," said Raven, standing up after some moments of absorption. "Thanks for the info, Clarke. I'll look into this guy tomorrow." She grinned, looking between them. "In the meantime, I'll get a start on my little side project."

Lexa wanted to object, to tell her she had never given the okay, but when she opened her mouth to speak, found that she couldn't. Instead she flushed a horrible shade of red, and only braved making eye contact with Clarke once Raven was gone. "She told you about that too, didn't she?"

"Yup," said Clarke, finishing off her wine. She stood, collecting her dirty dishes. "And I think it's a great idea," she smirked with another wink before turning her back on an astonished Lexa.

* * *

 **oh shit, everyone's fucking with lexa, poor girl**


	9. Chapter 9

Judging by her drooping eyelids, Clarke was clearly feeling the effects of her long day out and the two glassfuls of wine. When Lexa told her to go to bed however, Clarke refused, instead suggesting they watch a movie together. Lexa knew from past experience it was pointless to object. If possible, Clarke tended to get even more obstinate in such states. So, not owning a television, Lexa fired up her laptop and they settled in on the couch together. The small screen necessitated they sit fairly close, their shoulders and thighs touching like the previous night. While Lexa brought up _Netflix_ , Clarke pulled the plaid blanket over their laps.

"What do you want to watch?" asked Lexa once her profile was loaded.

"I don't know," she replied, "just scroll through for a bit." As Lexa did, Clarke added, "I'm surprised you even have Netflix. You know, considering you're such a bookworm." She nudged her shoulder, resisting the urge to lay her head down. Having recently come out of the shower, Lexa smelled exceptionally good right now.

Clarke smiled at the slight eye roll this elicited. "I don't live in books, Clarke." Then she muttered, "Not all the time anyway." In her normal voice, "There's actually quite a few book adaptations on here. I find it fascinating to compare the two mediums."

"I thought it was well established that the book versions were _always_ better because they were the most comprehensive."

"I don't know where you're getting your information from, Clarke, but I can assure you that is far from the case. In the last month alone I've watched two tv shows that were as good as, if not better than their source material."

"Oh, well, that doesn't count then," dismissed Clarke. "I was talking about movies. TV shows have plenty of time to lay everything out properly. It's hard to screw that up. I wanna know just how many movies you've seen that were better than the book."

" _The Princess Bride_ for starters. Then there's-"

"That was a book originally? I didn't know that. Huh. What else?"

" _Fight Club_ is widely considered better than the book version. Even the author agrees."

Clarke snorted, nudging Lexa's shoulder again. "You must've really enjoyed all the sweaty man candy in that film."

Lexa gave Clarke an unconcerned sidelong look. "I did in fact."

"You what?" sputtered Clarke, more awake than she had been since Raven's talk. "But I thought you were..."

"You thought I was what, Clarke?" asked Lexa politely, trying to keep a straight face.

Clarke gave her an apologetic look. "I just assumed you were a flaming lesbian."

"And what gave you that impression?" she continued with considerable effort. It was fun to watch Clarke flounder, especially after worrying her the entire day.

Clarke scratched her head, then glanced around the room. Her eyes settled on the bookcase. "Like seventy percent of that LGBT+ section is wlw fiction. One's even full on erotica."

"What can I say?" she said, with a shrug. "I enjoy variety."

Clarke huffed and looked around some more. "You've got a candle called _Lemon Lesbiance._ "

"I love the smell of lemons in the morning and it's a lot cheaper than having a lemon tree in here," responded Lexa, her lips twitching with suppressed amusement. She was not going to last much longer before breaking.

"You've got _one_ black dress in your closet, which looks like it's for formal occasions only."

"It's true I don't enjoy wearing dresses the same way that Costia does, but what exactly does that prove, Clarke?"

Clarke appeared to think hard for several moments, an adorable scrunch of her nose in place, before a triumphant gleam came to her eye. "When we were kids, you _never_ talked about boys, except to complain about them. Whenever I gushed about The Backstreet Boys, you didn't have much to say. But if The Spice Girls came up, you'd light up like a firecracker and go on and on about how much you loved Sporty Spice. I distinctively recall teasing you about it once, telling you to marry her. And your only response was, ' _I can't, Clarke. I'm not old enough yet_.'"

Throughout this impassioned speech, Lexa had to bite her tongue to stop herself from laughing in Clarke's face. By the end of it, however, she could no longer hold this in and broke down completely. Startled, Clarke jumped in her seat, then narrowed her eyes at Lexa, annoyed at playing this game. By the time Lexa stopped laughing, there were tears in her eyes, which only served to intensify the alluring green.

"Congratulations, Clarke," she smiled as she wiped away the tears, "your gaydar is very much intact."

"Anyway," said Clarke, rolling her eyes, "can you just pick something for us to watch already?"

"As you wish," she murmured, eyes on the screen.

Clarke didn't miss the implied connotation. She had already known Lexa loved her, but to hear it this way, even indirectly, sent her mind soaring like it did in the greenhouse. She cuddled against Lexa as much as she dared, and then Lexa selected _Mrs. Doubtfire_ , one of their favourites growing up.

About ten minutes in Clarke lay down, her head in Lexa's lap. Absentmindedly, Lexa stroked her hair, faux leather gloves in place once more. Within half an hour of that, Clarke had started to doze. Lexa knew this because her incessant commentary had come to an end. Unwilling to disturb her, Lexa stayed that way until the end of the movie, at which point, she very gingerly extricated herself from Clarke's head, clearing her now somewhat sprawled body bit by bit from her lap like an archaeologist with a new fossil.

Once Clarke was settled in again, Lexa pulled the blanket back in place. Unknowingly, she left a kiss on her shoulder the same way Clarke had done her first night there.

Also unknowingly, Clarke smiled once Lexa's back was turned. She had finally succeeded in making Lexa sleep in her own bed.

It wasn't long before she regretted this deception. Compared to her mattress in her condo, Lexa's was just okay. Compared to this couch, however, it was like trading in her Lexus GS for a Honda Civic. Clarke marveled at the fact that Lexa had slept at all these past two nights.

If they couldn't sleep together, it would seem more shopping was in order. But that was a problem for a different day.

* * *

Since she couldn't sleep very well, Clarke was up earlier than usual, and was somewhat startled to find Lexa in front of her, on the other side of the coffee table. She wasn't watching her, however, her eyes were closed. Lexa's legs were crossed, hands in her lap, breaths slow and steady, spine straight. She appeared to be meditating. Clarke envied her that, she had never been able to calm her mind enough to get into such a state. For a few minutes she just watched Lexa breathe, admiring how poised and beautiful she looked in such a serene attitude. If Clarke had cultivated her artistic talent more as a young woman, she would've very much wanted to capture this moment forever. As it was, she had to content herself with simply observing.

A faint scent of lemon drifted through the air from the single lit candle. Clarke wasn't sure if Lexa always lit that particular candle in the morning, or if she was simply having a bit more fun with Clarke after their little game. Whatever the reason, Clarke appreciated the fresh, clean smell. She took a few deep pulls of air closer to the source, feeling ever so slightly more invigorated. Today seemed like a prime coffee day, except she really didn't want to become dependent on it again. Her previous addiction had been more severe than most. But that had been due to working the far too frequent twenty-four hour shift at the hospital; they seemed to be forever understaffed.

Tea seemed like the next best option, which was convenient as Lexa had more types than Clarke had ever heard of. The problem was heating the water. Clarke didn't want to disturb Lexa while she was-

"Might I suggest the countess of Seville?"

Clarke jumped at the sudden voice nearly in her ear. "Lexa!" she chastised, doing her best to stay in place and not whirl around and accidentally kill herself. Clarke had forgotten just how much of a ninja Lexa was, and that she had occasionally delighted in scaring her shitless as children. It was about the only form of disorder she used to cause.

Hand on her heart, she turned to glare at her. Lexa was attempting not to laugh, the corners of her lips twitching convulsively.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Were you even meditating? Or were you just pretending?"

Lexa smirked. "I was...until you woke up. I must say, Clarke, you're not a very graceful riser after a poor night's sleep." The smirk widened. "Do you still need the tea, or have I sufficiently roused you?"

They were still standing quite close. When combined with Lexa's somewhat husky voice and words, it was with some effort that she didn't glance down at her lips. "Tea sounds good," she managed eventually, with a forced smile.

"Would you like me to show you how to make it?"

"I _know_ how to make tea, Lexa," grumbled Clarke, annoyed that Lexa thought she was completely inept in the kitchen. It was mostly true of course, she never had much time or interest in learning how to cook, but that didn't mean she wanted Lexa to think she was incompetent.

Finally, Lexa stood back and watched her fill the kettle part way and turn it on. Then she took down the container labeled dragonwell instead of countess, opened the lid, and stared at the loose bits of stuff that looked like dried out pieces of grass. She wasn't sure why she had been expecting teabags, but she had been. Clarke opened a number of drawers looking for the ball cage thing to put the dragonwell in, but couldn't find it. With a sigh, she turned to Lexa for guidance, but she wasn't even there anymore. After a quick surveyance around to ensure Lexa wasn't waiting to spring out at her, she noticed the bathroom light was on.

Redoubling her efforts, she scanned through the tea shelf again and realized she had overlooked a box full of tea pouches. Clarke had no idea how much of the dragonwell to use, so she just scooped out about the same amount that you would find in a pre-made teabag. With a typical high pitched screech, the kettle finished heating the water. Clarke poured a cup full, and with a shrug, deposited the tea pouch into the too hot liquid to steep.

She had just taken a tentative sip when Lexa reappeared, all dressed for the day in another one of her blouses and skin tight jeans. Her hair was in a simple ponytail today. The appearance may have been ordinary, the woman was anything but.

"How is it?"

"Best thing I've ever tasted," lied Clarke, holding back a grimace.

Lexa flashed her a knowing smile but otherwise said nothing and went about putting her breakfast together.

Towards the end of their mostly silent (but not uncomfortable) time together, Lexa caught Clarke's eye and said, "Do you have any plans for the day?"

"I was thinking I would go pick up an air mattress and a phone, but other than that, I'll probably just hang out up here."

Lexa observed her thoughtfully. "You could help out around the store if you wanted." Lexa sighed. "I know it's not very glamorous or interesting-"

"And Costia wouldn't like that very much," Clarke interrupted.

Lexa shrugged. "Perhaps not. However, it's not really her call who I choose to employ."

"Oh, so I'd be your employee, huh?" responded Clarke, with a raised eyebrow. "You're going to boss me around all day?"

"We both know that wouldn't work," replied Lexa, faintly amused. "You've always been the more dominant one in this relationship." Clarke didn't respond right away so Lexa stood up and said, "Well, you'll think about it I guess. I've got to go start opening up."

She still made no move to leave. "On the off chance Finn isn't actually responsible for your death, it could be dangerous for you to show yourself in public for an entirely different reason. Please tell me you'll be more careful from here on out."

A little caught off guard, Clarke only nodded. "I will."

Seemingly satisfied with this, Lexa reciprocated the nod, and then caught her off guard again. "Would you mind putting on that pair of gloves you bought?"

Intrigued, Clarke went to do just that and when she came back, Lexa had also donned her gloves, one hand behind her back. Lexa held out her hand. It seemed like a strange time to start dancing, and indeed, that wasn't what Lexa wanted to do.

Rather than begin a music-less waltz, Lexa simply brought Clarke's hand up to her lips, maintaining eye contact all the while. Her lips lingered long enough that Clarke fancied she could feel them directly on her skin, which sent a shiver up her arm.

Lexa next removed an ungloved hand from behind her back, revealing a bundle of daisies, tied together with a blue ribbon. Clarke had no idea where she got them from, but she wasn't about to complain.

Once she took it, Lexa released her hand and said, "Good day, milady."

Clarke half expected her to bow formally. Instead, Lexa only turned on her heel and went through the door. Still, it was the gayest thing to happen to Clarke in awhile, and that was including their greenhouse sexcapade.

* * *

As it turned out, making a condom suit was harder than Raven Reyes had anticipated. The prototype she had toiled over last night had torn in several places just from trying to wear it. Physical exertion of any kind would lead to a second premature departure of the red haired doctor. Miss Reyes decided she would need to acquire better materials and have a redo that night. The deathly duo would simply have to keep it in their pants for a little while longer.

In the meantime, Raven took to her computer, where the vast majority of her detecting took place. With virtually everything connected in this day and age, she could retrieve most hidden secrets this way, especially where a less than faithful spouse was concerned, as they were often not nearly as discrete as they believed.

Fingertips clacking away in Linux script, Raven first hacked _Polis General_. She wanted to confirm Clarke's story about Carl Emerson before she dug into his person further. Considering all of the sensitive information housed there, it was laughably easy to access the hospitals database.

Within another minute, she had pulled up all the relevant documents from human resources, and indeed Clarke had made several complaints about the former head of security. A little more digging found the reason for his dismissal listed as ' _aggressive and inappropriate behaviour_ ' and ' _failure to comply with hospital policy_.' Raven also found the recommendation strongly urging future employers to seek elsewhere. With a few commands, Raven could change the memo, but besides not being inclined to do so, it was far too late. The memo was dated from five weeks ago.

The question now became, could Emerson have simmered in rage for all that time until he finally snapped and strangled Clarke to death?

Raven was about to attempt to find out. A cursory glance at his _Facebook_ page told her that he was single with two kids, both boys. Searching back in time about four years, she found his wife, Gayle, had died of some sort of rare, hard to pronounce, bone cancer, the type you usually developed when exposed to considerable amounts of radiation. Improper working conditions at the research facility she had worked at were apparently the cause. Emerson went to court, but barely received enough in return to cover the cost of the legal services.

This told Raven two things: that Emerson hadn't killed his wife and that he was most likely in debt. On top of the legal expenses, there would've been considerable medical ones as well. And sure enough, after running a program she coded herself to retrieve his bank password, his credit was in the red. So being blacklisted would've been particularly debilitating for him.

He definitely had the motive. Judging by his profile picture, he was only of average strength. But based on all his hospital transgressions, she knew he was well capable of strangling someone to death from behind. Probably anyone could manage something like that if they had enough nerve.

She checked his DM's for Facebook and Twitter to see if he was dumb enough to say anything incriminating to anyone before the murder occurred. There wasn't anything there besides some spam...but somewhat curiously, he hadn't tweeted anything for about three weeks. In fact, he had barely updated his social media at _all_ in that time frame.

The only things Raven couldn't get immediate remote access to were people's personal phones and computers. For things like that, she would need to physically install spyware on them, and then she could see everything they had ever stored there (in the leisure of her own home), whether it was deleted or not.

In order to do that, she would need to pay Mr. Emerson a visit.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Emerson resided in a lower end apartment building. It wasn't the worst place she had ever been to, but it certainly was far from the nicest. Most likely his two boys had to share a room, which considering they were now teenagers, was probably pretty chaotic.

Getting access to his electronics would be tricky. Her previous research had shown her that he had canceled his internet provider about a month ago. Which might explain why he hadn't posted anything online since then. Or perhaps it was because he was drinking himself into a stupor everyday – his credit card had been charged for a considerable amount of alcohol. For deadbeat homebodies like this, her usual go-to move was to disconnect cable or internet for the target and then pretend to be a technician to gain access to their home. An idea she had stolen from _The Italian Job,_ one of her all time favourite movies.

Since Emerson possessed neither of these things (which his children no doubt loved), she wouldn't be able to go her usual route. She was going to have to be very subtle about this...by setting off the fire alarm and making everyone vacate the building. This, she had to manually do because the fire protocols were ancient in this place. She was somewhat dubious it would even function at all.

Thankfully it did. Then she just stood back and watched as everyone began piling outside. After a minute she began to fear that Emerson either wasn't home or was passed out cold. In which case, this was all a colossal waste of time. But then, he finally did appear.

As soon as she saw him though, she knew he wasn't the killer.

* * *

 **Yes, the hacker part/dead wife/debt bits are very similar to Mr. Robot...guess who was watching that recently? (everyone's got a dead spouse in this story, just like the damn loo)**

 **Also, I'm going away soon, so there probably won't be any updates to this for the next two weeks. Sorry to leave it on a semi-cliffhanger (it's not really imo but then again I know what's what) but I guess y'all can speculate about it if you want.**


	10. Chapter 10

**This was mostly done before I went away so y'all are getting it earlier than expected...or like a day earlier anyway. :p**

* * *

Lexa was in the midst of showing Clarke how to operate the cash register, Costia looking on in clear dislike, when her phone began to buzz. A cursory look told her Raven was on the other end. She gestured to Clarke to follow her upstairs, Costia's eyes following them all the while, narrowed in suspicion.

With the apartment door closed behind them, Lexa answered the call, putting it on speakerphone again. "Hey, Raven. I take it you have an update on Carl Emerson?"

"Yeah. He's not our guy."

"Wow, that was fast," said Lexa, quite impressed. "Even for you."

Clarke, however, looked inscrutable.

They moved over to the living room to sit down, Clarke across from her for once. Lexa placed the phone between them, on the coffee table.

"How do you know?"

"You mean besides the fact that he's on crutches right now, one arm in a cast and his neck in a brace?"

Raven sent her a picture for good measure. She certainly wasn't exaggerating. He definitely _looked_ like he'd been through the mill.

"He could be faking...to give himself an alibi in case the police came around." Lexa knew it wasn't likely Raven had overlooked this possibility herself, but she still had to ask, especially since Clarke seemed to be deep in thought and not inclined to speak just yet.

"No," replied Raven right away. "I checked. A still unidentified hit and run driver nearly killed him about three weeks ago."

Lexa looked to Clarke, a bit worried about her reaction to this news. Incidents involving cars were not exactly her favourite topic, considering her own father was killed in one. Her concern was unwarranted though. Clarke seemed utterly unaffected by this discussion. Perhaps it was only because Emerson was involved.

"He couldn't exactly afford an extended stay at the hospital, so he checked himself out against doctor's orders, like the next day. He's been medicating on rum and whiskey since then."

"Guy has pretty shit luck," concluded Raven.

Lexa was about to respond when Raven continued. Sometimes she never stopped talking. "You know...all of that unnecessary aggression he was displaying at work...I think it coincides with when he didn't get proper justice and compensation after his wife died. He really did get screwed over by the company that killed her."

Finally Clarke spoke. She looked stricken. "I didn't know that. About his wife." Her hands fidgeted in her lap. "I didn't know."

"It isn't your fault, Clarke," reassured Lexa.

"Not unless you crashed into him," supplied Raven unhelpfully, which earned her a glare from Lexa that would go unseen by the intended target. "You did say your car's been in the shop."

" _Raven_ ," warned Lexa, "I'm sure Clarke had nothing to do with that."

There was an uncomfortably delayed response, though Lexa thought it had more to do with her mental abstraction than any form of guilt.

"No, it wasn't me. My car just stopped working one day, like a switch was flicked. They can't seem to figure out what's wrong with it."

"When did this happen?"

Clarke thought for a bit. "I'd say it's been in the shop for about a week and a half by this point. Why? Do you think this has something to do with my murder?"

"Probably not but I don't want to rule anything out just yet. What kind of car you got?" asked Raven.

"Lexus GS."

Lexa was slightly taken aback by the brand of car Clarke had decided to own.

"Hmm, that's pretty unusual for their company, for any company really. Mind if I take a look?"

That gave Clarke more pause. "You know how to fix cars?"

"Raven likes to think she knows how to do everything," said Lexa with a faint smile and eye roll.

"Only because it's true," boasted Raven smugly. "I'm a genius. A certified child prodigy-"

"Who once got outwitted by a hump happy Jack Russell Terrier."

Surprised, more by the random turn of the conversation than anything else, Clarke laughed. That had been Lexa's intent. She was glad it worked to lighten Clarke's mood a bit. Besides, if Raven can tell embarrassing anecdotes, so can she.

"Way to ruin my rep," grumbled Raven on the other end of the line. "You could've helped me out instead of laughing and filming it. That little bastard wouldn't take no for an answer."

"And made you trip over your own feet," added Lexa. "And then he tried to hump your fa-"

"Okay!" exclaimed Raven quickly. "That's enough!"

"You filmed that?!" Clarke asked, hysterical, practically in tears. "Can I see?!"

Lexa was grinning widely now, further pleased with herself. "No. Raven, deleted it before we even made it out of the park, I'm afraid."

"More like obliterated," said Raven, tersely. " _Anyway_ , can we please move on from the childish antics now? Goddammit, Clarke, stop laughing! That was the worst day of my life!"

(Which in fact, it was not. It did not even rank in the top ten worst days of Raven Reyes life. Most recently and notably, when her best friend nearly killed her.)

This of course only served to make her laugh harder, if possible, and with a few rapid phrases in Spanish, Raven threatened some very horrible things on them. Surprisingly, she stayed on the line until Clarke finally calmed down.

"All good, dead girl?" said Raven.

Clarke didn't seem to be offended. A smile was still in place. "Yeah."

"Text me the location of the shop. I'll go take a look right now."

"Sure...but how are you going to get access to it?"

"Don't worry about that. And don't tell her anymore stories about me, Lexa, or else!"

"Or else what, Raven?"

"Or else I won't make you that sex suit."

Clarke caught her eye and Lexa glanced away with an embarrassed cough. Then Lexa witnessed Clarke doing something she had barely ever done. She apologized. It was such a rare and unusual moment that Lexa almost wished she could have caught it on video.

"Sorry about being an ass, Raven. It wasn't very nice of me. I'm sure Lexa feels bad about breaking your confidence too."

She glared at Lexa, then looked to the phone. "Yes, sorry, Raven."

Clarke must have really wanted that sex suit made. This knowledge made Lexa very glad to have the distraction of her shop down below, which as soon as the call was concluded, she returned to.

* * *

Some hours later, Raven made a physical appearance, front door announcing her arrival. The day had been unusually slow, so Lexa was almost glad for the continual interruptions. Clarke was a rather slow learner, though that seemed to be because she was distracted by something. At first Lexa had flattered herself, thinking she was the cause, then she thought it was because of Costia's frequent ill natured looks in her direction, but now she wasn't so sure. Every time she went to ask her if everything was okay, she would come out of her shell and smile and ask a mundane question about one of the products in Grounders before she could.

Upstairs, in the kitchen again (Raven was rifling through Clarke's junk food), Raven gave them her next update. "So basically, the onboard computer was fried. One tiny chip to be precise. You're lucky that happened right when you started it up. Otherwise you probably would've been in an accident."

"Do you think someone sabotaged Clarke's car?" asked Lexa.

Raven bit into a white chocolate chip cookie and chewed thoughtfully. "It's possible, I suppose. Though it's still far more effective to cut someone's breaks if they want to cause an accident."

"But not nearly as discreet," pointed out Lexa. "Even the mechanics didn't know what had happened to it."

"That's because they're lazy fucks," replied Raven scornfully, as if she were personally affronted about the idea of mechanics with poor work ethic. She shoved the rest of the cookie into her mouth and chewed aggressively. "They were backlogged up the wazoo. Hadn't even taken a look at Clarke's car yet. Otherwise, any simpleton would've known the computer was shot. A basic diagnostic would've told them that."

Raven looked to Clarke. "I'm guessing you didn't notice anyone breaking into your car before this happened?"

Clarke shook her head, still in thought like she always was during these discussions.

"Could someone have triggered this sort of thing remotely?" said Lexa.

"If they did, they have shit timing." Raven took a sip of beer that she had popped open barehanded a couple of minutes ago. "Honestly, I don't think anyone tampered with it. There were no signs, no residue, no nothing. It was just a freak thing. You just happened to pick a lemon, Clarke."

Lexa and Clarke shared a look at the mention of lemons, a look Raven didn't miss, but didn't bother commenting on.

"Anyway," continued Raven, "since Emerson was a no go, who's your next most likely suspect?"

It was awhile before Clarke responded. "Well...there was this woman one time who threatened to kill me-"

"And she _wasn't_ first on your list?" interrupted Raven incredulously. "Why the fuck not?"

"Because it was awhile ago, Raven. Like half a year ago."

"Fair enough. What happened?"

"Well, one of her recent recruits-"

"Recruits?" wondered Lexa.

"She's a gang leader," clarified Clarke. "I'd seen her in the hospital enough times with her people to pick up on that. Anyway, the injured girl, I think she was about seventeen or so, was hurt pretty badly. Multiple shots to the torso and arms. Multiple organ failure. Bleeding out rapidly. She should've been rushed straight to surgery but there were no operating rooms available."

"Why?" Lexa again.

"There had been a seven car pile up a few hours earlier. There wasn't enough time to transport her to another hospital...so I tried to save her myself..." Clarke sighed, "but I couldn't." She was silent for a bit. In a comforting gesture, Lexa placed her hand over top Clarke's. "Afterwards, the gang leader cornered me with the bloody scalpel I had just been using and said she'd slit my throat if our paths ever crossed again.

"She must be dangerous if she's a gang leader...but I thought she was just acting out because her, I guess, friend had just died. People's emotions run high all the time in hospitals." Clarke shrugged. "I didn't really think much of it afterwards. Sure I was a bit shook up, but that passes pretty fast in my line of work. It has to, or we can't do our jobs effectively. If you can't compartmentalize your feelings, you won't last long."

Despite Clarke staring at her while she said that, Lexa didn't think this last part was directed towards herself. Or rather, she _hoped_ it wasn't. She needed there to be a day when she could finally express herself fully, when she could finally release the tidal wave of emotions that were always just beneath the surface. Sure, she had lost control that first night, but those had been extraordinaire circumstances. She couldn't make that mistake again, not until she could actually touch Clarke in a satisfactory way.

For now, Clarke's advice was absolute. It had to be. Love was weakness when a single moment of forgetfulness caused instant death. Lexa's mother knew this well. And up to now, she had followed in her footsteps. Avoiding real relationships. Avoiding getting close. Avoiding touching strangers. For if there were more people out there like her and her mother and aunt, there was no telling just how many were once dead. Lexa did not know if the two touch rule applied to those individuals, should they exist. One murder on her conscience was enough, thank you very much.

"What was her name?" said Raven, breaking through yet another of their many longing looks.

"Who?" replied Clarke, a bit dumbly.

"The girl who died."

"I think it was...Trix...no, Tris. Yeah, Tris. The gang leader though...I think they called her Heda once...I don't know what her real name is...and she didn't exactly stick around to fill out any paper work."

"Okay, well, can you at least tell me the name of the gang they were in together?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"Oh, I don't know, Clarke," scoffed Raven sarcastically, "maybe so I can investigate the dangerous criminal who threatened to give you the closest shave of your life?"

"My throat wasn't slit though."

"It's a fucking expression, Clarke," barked Raven, arms crossed. "Why are you being so dense?"

Clarke hesitated quite a bit before answering. "The Trikru. The gang is the Trikru."

"Was that so hard?" frowned Raven.

Raven wasn't the only one frowning. Clarke was definitely acting strange now.

"Trikru..." contemplated Lexa, "those are the people who speak that bizarre code language, right?"

"Yeah," said Raven, still giving Clarke a strange look. "Trigedasleng. They think it's so fucking brilliant but it's actually pretty easy to follow once you break it down into its root parts. Heda for instance means...head of."

"Surely not all of their code is so easy to crack?" asked Lexa.

"No, not all of it, but it wouldn't take much effort even for the more obscure words." She tapped her head. "You just have to use your noggin a little harder. Something the police can't seem to do. Otherwise they'd all be behind bars by now."

Lexa wasn't sure if she was just boasting again or if she really could figure out the code with little effort. It was probably a combination of both.

"Anyway, they don't have much of an online presence, so I guess I'll have to go check out their terf."

This declaration sent Clarke over the edge, nerves bristling.

"What are you even going to do?" blurted Clarke. "Confronting her directly isn't likely to give you any answers. That is, assuming you can even _get_ access to see her. What's the point?"

"Relax, blondie," said Raven, eyebrow raised. "I'm just going to scout the place out, see if I can get the low down of the area." She smirked, "Why? Were you worried about my safety, Clarke?" The smirk grew. "Or were you just afraid I'll never finish that sex suit if I get myself killed?"

The thought hadn't even crossed Lexa's mind, and she hoped that wasn't Clarke's reasoning for not wanting Raven to go into Trikru territory. Thankfully her mind was put at ease soon enough.

"It's too dangerous," reiterated Clarke. "You don't know them like I do. You haven't seen first hand the damage they can inflict. You can't go there. At least not alone."

Lexa caught on first, her heart rate speeding up. "You can't go with her, Clarke. You might be recognized." Lexa steadied herself and her mind. She knew some basic self defense moves if it came to it. "I'll accompany Raven."

This suggestion was even less appealing to Clarke, if her face was anything to judge by. It seemed to have frozen in place.

However, Raven spoke before the ice could crack, flinging pointy projectiles in all directions. "If you two are that concerned for my well being, which I'll admit is touching in a fucking sappy way, I'll ask one of my ex-military buddies to tag along." Raven patted her sidearm. "No way they could take the two of us if it came to that, which I doubt it would since I'm not even going to engage them."

"But-"

"Don't worry about it. You guys stay put. I got this."

* * *

The Trikru territory was marked on all sides in the form of skeletal tree graffiti. Not figuratively sparse, but literally designed out of bones and skulls. Arrows riddled the ribs and tibia's and all the rest, giving the tree more substance in most places. They fanned out like pine needles on a Christmas tree. And indeed, the faintly glowing skull on top was like a macabre version of the North star. Whoever the artist was, and it _was_ the same person - as designated by the illegible signature - was pretty talented, even if the artwork was fairly ominous. It wouldn't be the first time Raven had entered into dangerous territory, and it wouldn't be the last - she hoped anyway.

Scouting the place out was honestly pointless, she wasn't going to learn anything other than a few of the 'guards' movements. Slipping past them probably wasn't going to happen anyway. Stealth was never one of Raven's strong suits, never had been (especially wasn't now that her leg was less than stellar). Mentally, Raven was well equipped to be a brilliant tactician if she so chose, but she never had the patience for such things. She always preferred to attack head on, to make things go boom as often as possible. It gave her a thrill. She was somewhat of an adrenaline junkie. It's why she joined the military in the first place. Well, that, and she needed the money.

"Sorry, Clarke," she muttered as she stood up from her hunched position, cringing at the sharp pull in her damaged leg.

She almost got up to the large warehouse door before being slammed into it by a massive bearded and tattooed guy. He literally had muscles bulging out of his muscles.

"You're a little lost I think, girl," said the man in her ear, hot breath ghosting over her neck, making the hairs rise. Under different circumstances, she would probably be turned on.

With one arm pinning her face first, he pulled her M9 out of its holster. "And a little too well armed for coincidence."

Raven couldn't make out the camera watching them anymore, but she knew it was still there and would hopefully catch everything she had to say.

"Oh, you got me," snarked Raven, voice fairly muffled as her face was squished. "I'm not just another silly lost tourist. I want to speak to your leader, to Heda."

"Not gonna happen," he growled, shoving her even harder into the roll up steel door, making it flex with the force. "Outsiders aren't authorized. No exceptions."

Raven thought for a moment and then said as loudly and clearly as she could, "Yu sleng ste foto. Ai fis em op." _Your language is bad. I can fix it._

The guard tensed against her and then roughly turned her around. "Whatever you're playing at girl, it's not going to work. Heda doesn't speak to outsiders." He shoved her away from the building, keeping her gun in hand. "Get out of here before I break your neck."

Raven stood her ground, then looked to the camera dead on. "Teik ai sis au yo." _Let me help you_.

The guard started to advance on her and she prepared to run, but it wasn't necessary. The warehouse door started to rise of its own accord. Another tattooed guard armed with a machete stood just behind it.

"Heda will see you now," she said expressionlessly, though there was a flicker of curiousity behind her blue eyes.

Raven took a step forward but the big bearded guy got in her way again. He thoroughly, and none too gently, searched her person, taking her disposable phone away. She had purposely left her primary phone, keys and wallet back in her car, which was parked some distance from here. She didn't need these people knowing her real identity or where she lived.

And so the easy part of her harebrained scheme was accomplished. Whether or not Heda (or someone affiliated with her) was guilty of killing Clarke, getting out alive was the real test.

She was excited for the challenge.

* * *

 **Raven's a silly billy. But this should be interesting. ;)**

 **The translations probably aren't perfect, but they're good enough.**


	11. Chapter 11

**So this is also earlier than usual but I felt like posting it now. I'll probably be posting more than once a week again. Sometimes having some distance from something can reinvigorate you. Anyway...this chap is a little different as far as this story goes, but also pretty familiar territory. Things may or may not go boom. :)  
**

* * *

The warehouse was divided into sections, various asymmetrical spaces cordoned off with blankets or sheet metal. Bits of various refuse and found objects occupied and adorned. These were the homes of The Trikru, a rag tag of individuals from all across the city who had no other place to call home. Many a curious eye watched her progress through the main pathway down the centre of this hodge podge of humanity.

For once in her life, Raven was a little unnerved to be the centre of attention. It would be easy enough for them to surround her, cut her off from the exit and drag her to her doom. She knew the group was large, but she hadn't realized just quite how large.

The guard with the machete stopped at a green curtain with a symbol that looked something like a biohazard. This did nothing to alleviate Raven's unease. The big bearded guy nudged her forward and through the curtain, which revealed a more open area, sparsely decorated but littered with candles. At any other moment in time, comparing these people's fascination with antiquated lighting techniques and Lexa's, would have amused her. As it was, she swallowed nervously at the imposing figure sitting on a slightly raised platform.

Similar to the other inhabitants, the woman was dressed in clothes that had clearly seen better days and could do with some mending. Despite this, she was quite striking, with one half of her face tattooed with tribal markings and the other with black paint. The paint covered both eyes but only curved off of the right one, down and to her chin. There was something about her, about the sharp cut of her cheekbones that was familiar, but Raven couldn't put her finger on it, which was not pleasant for her.

What appeared to be a sheathed sword rested against the oversized chair she was sitting in, half slouched, legs apart. No more worrisome than the machete and other knives she had noticed around here. Raven stood about ten feet away from the intimidating woman whom she supposed must be Heda, at a loss for words. She was feeling very foolish at the moment, another unpleasant sensation for her.

The woman observed her in a lazy manner before finally breaking the overbearing silence. "So you think our code language is inadequate, do you?"

"Yeah," she croaked out. She cleared her throat and stood more at ease, an attempt to mimic the unconcerned nature of Heda. "It could do with some fine tuning."

"And you believe you are capable of such a thing?"

"I do," she nodded.

"What would you get out of this?"

"The satisfaction of a job well done," she quipped, coming back to herself a little more. Seeing that Heda was not impressed, she said more seriously, "I fix things, it's what I do. When I see something that's not quite right, I _have_ to fix it."

"Even if it would mean aiding and abetting criminals?"

"I've always been a little morally gray," she answered lamely with a shrug.

The woman stared at her some more, then thankfully shifted her gaze towards the bearded guy. As if they had some sort of telepathic connection, he moved over to her swiftly and handed her the gun he had collected. Heda inspected it briefly and then pointed it at her. Raven instantly tensed, wondering at the morbid irony of getting offed by her own protection, a protection she had sworn by on many occasions.

"An M9, the weapon of choice for both the United States police force and the military. Which is it?"

"I'm not a cop," she assured. Sometimes she worked with them, but that was neither here nor there at this pivotal moment.

Heda smirked, or perhaps sneered, ever so faintly. "Did you enjoy serving your country? Is that how you were crippled?"

"A souvenir from a cheating scumbag actually," she replied a little stiffly. She was allowed to think of herself as a cripple from time to time, but she didn't appreciate it when others did.

"Did you retaliate?"

"He's behind bars for attempted murder and will be for awhile."

"During your illustrious military career, did you kill anyone?"

There was a hint of mockery here but for some inexplicable reason Raven felt compelled to answer her truthfully. Perhaps the gun pointed at her head had something to do with it.

"No...I was mostly the go to tech person," she admitted reluctantly. "Sometimes I fixed UTV's or double checked the safety protocols on various bombs in storage."

She left out the more classified work she had done for various special ops missions.

"You've never taken a human life before, have you?"

"Have _you_?" she replied, tired of this interrogation. If she was going to shoot her, she would have by now.

Heda smirked but otherwise didn't respond. Then she blessedly lowered the gun, dropping it on the opposite side of the sword as if it were a toy. She pushed herself up and off of her 'throne' and made her way down a few steps until she was on the level with Raven, standing just a few feet apart. Now that she wasn't slouched, Raven could see that this woman was taller than herself by a few inches.

Up close like this, she had an even bigger feeling of deja vu, though still couldn't quite put her finger on it. Why was this mysterious woman so damn familiar?

"Leave us," ordered Heda, eyes never leaving hers.

The two guards exchanged a look and then disappeared through the biohazard curtain. She was almost sorry for their departure. Heda was even more terrifying when faced alone. The next words out of her mouth sent her heart and mind reeling.

"Why are you really here, Raven?"

Just like that it all came back to her. The worst moment of her teenage years flashed before her eyes. The girl she had been crushing on for almost a year ripped her heart out and stomped on it in front of an audience of their peers. Just like back then, she felt sick to her stomach and on the verge of collapse. Similarly, she remained upright and kept what little dignity she had to her, not giving them the satisfaction of watching her cry. She did that for hours when she got home, and then never shed a tear again.

"Anya?" she choked out, doing her best not to tremble.

Anya chuckled quietly. "It's been a long time since anyone's called me that." Her dark brown eyes, once so pretty to Raven, softened as they regarded her face. "It's good to see you again."

 _Is she fucking serious?!_ thought Raven furiously once she got over the shock. _How in the fucking hell could she say something like that to me after what she did?! After she humiliated and traumatized me! I'm going to fucking murder this bitch!_

All of this internal verbal abuse manifested itself in a silent scream of rage and a headbutt to Anya's face. Completely caught off guard, Anya groaned, staggering back from the heavy headed assault. Raven charged at her before she had a chance to recover, slamming her to the ground. Straddling her waist, she raised a fist to pummel her with, but Anya grabbed her wrist before it landed, then yanked Raven forward and rolled their positions. When Raven attempted to punch her again, Anya grabbed that wrist too and brought both fists above Raven's head, effectively incapacitating her.

In this compromising position, with Anya on top of her, her damn body betrayed her, and all of the rage turned to pure lust and the still vivid memory of what she once felt for her. Stubbornly, Raven refused to give into her urges, convinced this homophobic asshole must be the murderer. But then Anya shifted slightly, unintentionally pressing just so into her crotch, and Raven couldn't help herself any longer. She jerked her head up as far as she could manage and crashed their lips together. Surprised, Anya released her hold on her, allowing Raven to shove her off.

She scrambled to her feet, up the short dais, where her gun resided. At the same time she pivoted around to point it at Anya, she felt the tip of cold steel against her neck, the edge of the sword from earlier, now unsheathed...and deadly.

The entire altercation lasted precisely eleven point three seconds and was concluded in near silence, light panting notwithstanding.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she demanded angrily. "Finish it. Just like you did in school."

Anya was off to the side, out of range, so Raven couldn't see her reaction. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play fucking dumb with me!" she yelled. "You know _exactly_ what you did!"

The machete guard poked her head through the curtains, then froze at the sight of them. "We're fine. Leave us," she ordered again.

"We're the farthest thing from fine, bitch!"

"I said go," commanded Anya. Finally the guard listened and left them to their heated argument. "Drop your weapon."

"You're going to have to kill me to get me to do that!"

"Why are you being so stubborn?" huffed Anya. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Since when?!" screamed Raven, nearly in tears for the first time in nearly fifteen years. "I thought that was your favourite thing!?"

There was a delayed response and then a confession she never in a million years expected to hear. "What I said back then...it was wrong of me, Raven. I'm ashamed to have behaved that way, to make you feel so bad. The truth is...I hated myself for who I was, and I took it out on you in a public manner so no one would ever question that part of me again. I don't blame you for hating me, and I don't expect forgiveness...but I am sorry." After she let this sink in for a few moments, she added, "Now, can I remove my sword without you shooting me? Or do I need to call in Ryder to subdue you again? Raven?"

She ground her teeth together and then dropped her M9. When it was kicked further away, the slight bite of steel retracted. Once it was sheathed, a somewhat dirty hand came out in front of her face, silently offering help up. Raven ignored it and instead held back the grunt of effort as she used the arm of the chair to rise.

Then, finally, she turned around to face Anya. Her expression hadn't changed much, it was still mostly indifferent, though her eyes seemed more communicative. Raven wobbled slightly, her knee aching from banging it on the stairs and all of the previous hunching outside the warehouse.

Anya gestured to her throne. "Have a seat."

"I'm good," she replied obstinately.

Anya sighed and said, "Fine then. Do yourself further injury. It's no matter to me." She tapped her fingers on the side of the sheath. "It's very late, Raven, so I'll ask you one more time, why are you here?"

There really wasn't much point beating around the bush. Either she upped and left or she did what she came here to do. "To collect your confession."

Anya arched a brow. "I believe you already received that."

"Very funny. I'm talking about Dr. Griffin's murder."

"Dr. Griffin?" muttered Anya, clearly surprised.

"Don't pretend you don't know who I'm talking about."

"Why would I kill Dr. Griffin?" continued Anya, apparently not hearing her. "She did more good than harm for my people. I admired her. I-"

Raven scoffed. "Oh yeah, right. You admired her so much that you threatened to kill her for trying her best with a _child_ you brought into this fucking mess!" Anya gave her a blank expression. "With Tris," she hissed.

Anya blinked a few times. "Tris was like my little sister. I was in shock. I lashed out. Surely you are familiar with the feeling of loss, you who served this great nation?"

There it was again, the hint of mockery, intentional or not. It seemed obvious how Anya felt about war and national pride. Which was fucking ironic since she and her people killed to protect their (stolen) land and keep their freedom.

Raven's leg was killing her but she would rather lose the leg than take a seat and give this woman the satisfaction of seeing her weakness.

"You must be very desperate to have come here and accuse me of such a thing at such an hour," continued Anya, considering her with laser point focus. Raven ignored the not entirely uncomfortable shiver this created up her spine. "Have you no other leads?"

"Don't try to turn this around, point the blame at someone else," she grunted, squeezing her eyes shut as another stab of pain shot up her leg. "I _know_ you did it."

Anya observed her coolly. "Show me this damning evidence you speak of and I will go with you right now to the police."

Raven's bad knee began to buckle, even with the continued support of the arm chair. Internally, she screamed in frustration, at the one thing she couldn't fix, and finally succumbed into the throne, instant relief spreading not just through her leg, but her entire body.

Anya moved around to the front, back into her line of sight, but made no comment. "The police _have_ a man in custody, a Finn Collins. Dr. Griffin's ex-lover. What makes you so certain he's not culpable?"

And the unspoken question, what is your personal stake in this?

Raven debated how much to tell her. She didn't want to make herself culpable to a criminal, give her blackmail for the future. Raven's 'contact' was in fact a nameless entity in the form of one's and zeros. For you see, she had hacked the police database some time ago and wrote herself a virtually undetectable back entrance, so that she could access it whenever she needed to and get insight into a particularly troubling case. As long as they didn't do a major systems upgrade or reformat, the entrance would stay intact.

During her most recent foray into the database, she discovered the police did not have any concrete evidence against Mr. Collins besides the locket of hair, which anyone could have cut off and planted on him. The only eye witness account of the altercation in the alleyway was vague and nondescript. The polygraph test they had forced him to submit to was indecisive. She had told Clarke that everything had pointed to him, when in fact it did not. This was in an attempt to avoid muddying the waters even further and getting into her belief that he was being railroaded.

Abigail Griffin was a prominent and respected figure of Polis and she was close friends with the mayor, Thelonious Jaha. Likely the police had wanted a quick and easy arrest to assure these esteemed individuals that they were competent at their jobs, perhaps even deserving of a raise and a bigger budget. So now that Clarke's body had gone missing, they were up shit's creek. To deflect from this, they officially charged him of her murder, even though he was adamant he would never have harmed her.

It seemed highly apparent now that even if they had bothered to follow any other leads as she had done, they would have hit a dead end.

"I have a contact, on the force. He doesn't think Collins did it. He's a really good judge of character," she elaborated, "has amazing hunches."

"I see," said Anya. She stared at Raven for awhile as if telepathically reading her mind like Ryders. "And you're no doubt only looking into this matter because you have an overwhelming urge to fix things."

Raven glared at the once again present tone of mockery and said, "Dr. Griffin was a friend of a friends. I just want to make sure she gets the closure she deserves."

Without warning, Anya astonished her when she suddenly knelt before her.

"What the fuck are you-"

Anya waved her off. "I give you my word that I, nor any of my people had any complicity in Dr. Griffin's death." Anya's tone was steel. "If any of them had, I would have seen to them personally."

In shock at the bizarre display - for one fleeting second thinking she was going to propose - from such an intimidating woman, Raven could only nod. Despite everything, and her personal feelings about Anya, she believed her. The likelihood of The Trikru attacking Clarke after all this time had never been very high to begin with, but Anya was right, she was desperate...and reckless.

Anya stood soon after. "I think you should go now before you make my people even more ill at ease."

Again, Raven nodded, not sure what else _to_ say.

"But I am curious, Raven...what if we had not had a shared past? What if I had not been lenient with you for insulting me with unfounded accusations and trying my patience? For attacking me? What was your plan for escape?"

The truth is, she hadn't had one, not a real one.

"I built a translator," she bluffed. "If you had decided to kill me, I would have threatened to release it to the police. You wouldn't have been able to have secret conversations anymore. I would've told you that people know I'm here and that they were instructed to send this translator anonymously if I didn't return or make contact again within the hour. I would have asked you if you really wanted to go to the trouble of creating a whole new language or relocating, instead of just answering my questions."

"And if I had admitted to being guilty? What then? How would you have apprehended me if I decided to disregard this warning?"

Part of Raven was wondering if Anya was asking these questions to give her leg more time to recover, but a much larger part couldn't fathom why.

"I brought a sniper buddy with me." Another bluff. "He's got goggles with thermal imaging capabilities and a very powerful weapon that can shoot through walls. I would've signaled to him to take out one of your guards, and kept picking them off until you agreed to come with me."

Anya did not seem particularly impressed or believing of her tactics. For someone who had never killed anyone, allowing innocent bystanders to be shot didn't exactly add up.

However, all she said was, "Then it is a good thing it didn't come to that." Anya cocked her head to the side, towards a secure exit. "Now come. I will escort you out."

Anya didn't offer her hand again, only waited for Raven to push herself to her feet before turning and heading towards the door. On the way, she fluidly bent and retrieved her M9.

Once there, Anya input a code to unlock the door, pulling it open and revealing the ominous darkness of full nightfall. Anya handed her back her gun, which she quickly returned to her holster. Raven walked through and turned to face her one last time.

She looked at her face, just below her eye where she had headbutted her. "Does that hurt?"

"A little," replied Anya with a tiny smirk, "but nothing I haven't survived before. You have a hard head, Raven Reyes."

Raven wasn't sure how she felt about Anya not only recognizing her right off the bat but also remembering her last name. So she covered that up with the first thing that came to mind. "Who says that's still my last name?"

 _Idiot! You fucking idiot! Why did you say that?!_

Anya raised both eyebrows, then frowned. "Of course. It's been a long time." She smiled thinly. "Congratulations. I hope it's a happy union."

Not having the energy or inclination to come clean, she simply nodded and walked away.

* * *

 **How'd I do with throwing in Clexa scenes here? xD**


	12. Chapter 12

**This is the turning point of this story y'all...so be prepared (for sensationsal news...sorta).**

* * *

Neither of our heroines could catch a wink while they awaited news of Miss Reyes. Rather than sit in abject worry, Lexa began to willingly tell Clarke about another misadventure from her past, which involved two other teenage girls, a deck of cards, and a bottle of apple vodka. By the end of the story Clarke was in stitches, selfishly glad the story had not ended up being what she had expected upon its outset.

They lay side by side on the two twin air mattresses they purchased after closing up shop. Three candles on the pushed aside coffee table illuminated the otherwise darkened living room. From time to time their stockinged feet made contact, the sensation pleasant and somewhat distracting. Every time they touched, in whatever capacity, they wanted more. If a solution to their untenable dilemma was not found within the next few days, risky, and possibly, deadly behaviour would ensue.

Recovered from her intense bout of merriment, Clarke returned the favour with a tale of her own, ecstatic to finally be sharing parts of herself that very few people were privy to with the woman she loved. Among other things, Lexa was astonished to learn that neither of them had gone to prom.

"Why didn't you go if you had a boyfriend?" asked Lexa curiously. Lexa hadn't gone for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was she had no one to accompany her there. Dancing in tight quarters also happened to be one of her worst nightmares. There was no way to avoid touching other people in clubs, and as has been previously established, Lexa was not keen on committing accidental and inexplicable murder.

Shrugging, Clarke cast her eyes downward. "Wells was great...but I just didn't feel like it. I told him I was exhausted from the stresses of my final year. He was disappointed not to go with me but perfectly understanding...as usual." She nudged her foot again. "The truth is...I couldn't stop thinking about a certain someone and how much I wished I could've shared it with them."

Lexa swallowed thickly, an acute pang of regret making itself known. "Clarke, I-"

Clarke waved her off. "What's done is done," she sighed. She raised her gaze back up to Lexa's. "All we can do now is try to make up for lost time."

Staring at one another, both fantasized about all the things they could do together if it weren't for the imminent threat of death. Far from being overly sexual in nature, they dreamed of taking the usual public liberties allowed to couples in love. Of dancing without restriction. Of kissing in the back of a theatre like teenagers. Of simply holding bare hands as they strolled down the street, window shopping on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Taking Clarke's hand in hers, Lexa squeezed. "I'm not going anywhere. We've got all the time in the world."

Clarke's smile faltered at that and Lexa wondered if she was thinking about her additional dilemma of immortality. "What's wrong, Clarke? You've been off all day."

When there was no answer, and further eye aversion, Lexa brought her gloved hand up to her lips, giving her knuckles a firm press. "Whatever it is, I won't judge you. You know that, right?"

Clarke sighed again. "I want to tell you, I do...but I'm afraid of what will happen once you know."

Heart beating faster, Lexa thought perhaps Clarke was holding in a love confession that would permanently change and complicate their already messy situation. Still, if Clarke wanted to tell her that she was head over heels for her and had been since they were children, Lexa wasn't going to be the one to stop her. In fact, if she didn't do it, Lexa would...eventually.

Fiddling with the broad blue ribbon around her neck, the bundle of daisies scattered amongst the three candles, Clarke gave her an agonized look. Lexa kissed her hand again. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything. You'll tell me when you're ready. I'm sure of it."

Clarke opened her mouth to respond but then Lexa's phone went off. Under other circumstances she would've been annoyed. As it was, they had been anxiously waiting for just this occurrence. Lexa rolled off the air mattress, and shot her hand out for her phone, nearly burning her fingers on the still lit, but substantially shortened, candles. Just how many hours had they been talking?

Sure enough the message was from Raven. It read as follows: _Trikru aren't our guys either. Heading home. See you in the morning._

Lexa held the phone out for Clarke to see, who had also scrambled to her feet. She smiled for a second and then frowned. "Call her." Lexa raised a brow so Clarke elaborated. "Just to double check this is actually _from_ her."

"Right," muttered Lexa, disappointed with herself not to have even considered that possibility.

There was a delayed, tension filled response once the ringing began. "Thata girl, Lex," came the welcome voice, "I taught you well." Embarrassed, she didn't reply right away, which prompted Raven to laugh and say, "Don't tell me...dead girl is the one who thought to get verbal confirmation of my well being?"

"Perhaps," said Lexa weakly.

She couldn't see Raven but she assumed she was shaking her head as she said, "Lexa, Lexa, Lexa...what am I going to do with you? Anyway...you guys can stop worrying over little old me now and go sleep together...or whatever it is you two touch challenged gals do at night."

Before either could respond, the line cut out.

"Well, I guess we should do as the lady says," said Clarke.

"Yes, I suppose we should."

* * *

Raven sighed in contentment as she sunk into the just right temperature of her peach smelling bubble bath. Within minutes the aches and pains of her overworked mostly paralyzed leg started to ease. She hated having limitations like this but there was nothing she could do about it except deal and keep on keeping on. It was helpful being a hacker. She didn't often have to go into the field to break a case wide open. Every time she did though, she ended up sore and needing of relief.

Despite this inconvenience, it was nice to go unplugged for a bit while she stewed away all the transgressions of the very long day.

When she was about to doze off - with images of a blast from the past behind her eyelids - she shook herself awake and hauled herself out of the tub with some difficulty, even with using the bar installed for just such a purpose. She sat on the edge of the icy ceramic for some time, massaging the rest of the kinks out of her leg.

Toweled off, she slowly crossed the cold bathroom floor barefoot and into her carpeted bedroom. Out of habit and before she threw on her pyjamas, she looked to her three computer screens...and froze. All three of them were flashing at her. She knew what this meant already, but still hobbled her way over to verify. And indeed, it was what she feared.

"Shit," she muttered to herself. "Can't I ever catch a break?"

Grumbling, she threw on a fresh set of clothes and reattached her brace and holstered gun. Then after a forlorn look at her cozy bed, she tossed more clothes and toiletries into a bag, removed the various internal and external harddrives from her computers, grabbed her laptop, and left her house.

* * *

When the phone buzzed right beside her head, Lexa startled awake on the air mattress next to Clarke, nearly falling into her. Only the saving grace of the coffee table kept her from killing her. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all?

Crises averted, Lexa blindly fumbled for her phone to find the usual customer on the other end. With a glance at Clarke, she found her still sound asleep. Swiftly moving into her bedroom, she answered the call on the last ring.

"Raven?" she croaked groggily.

"I've been burned," said Raven tersely.

"Burned?" returned Lexa, alarmed, mind thick with sleep and disturbing and indistinct visions.

"They know it was me. At the morgue."

"You're sure?" she asked, biting her lower lip.

"Yeah. Someone from the 100th precinct accessed my classified military records. They'll know all about me now. And my current address."

"Shit," cursed Lexa, palms getting sweaty. She calmed herself slightly. "What do you need?"

"A place to crash for the rest of the night would be good."

It was her own fault Raven was in this predicament. Giving her a place to stay was the least she could do. And since neither of them had social media accounts connecting them, it would be difficult to ascertain her identity and place of business.

"Of course. You can stay with us for as long as you need, Raven. In fact, there's a spare air mattress you can use and-"

"Sounds good. Open up."

That took Lexa aback, she had expected Raven to scoff at not being offered a real bed. The fact that she was already here hardly phased her. That was typical Raven through and through. "I'll be right down."

She opened the door to a disgruntled, though recently bathed Raven, with a bag slung over her shoulder and a laptop in hand. Without a word they made their way back upstairs and into the still open entryway of her apartment. Raven put her bag and laptop on the ground, pulled her gun and brace off, and then crawled onto the air mattress beside Clarke, completely unconcerned. Lexa envied her that and then headed into her bedroom to try and get some more sleep.

* * *

Regardless of how little rest she had attained, her internal clock never failed to rouse her at precisely six thirty-three each morning. Lexa entered the living room to start her meditation session, that would hopefully both rejuvenate her mind and body. Her world had been thrown into imbalance ever since Clarke had come back into it. This was the only way she knew how to right things.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw the scene before her. Raven had thrown an arm over Clarke's body in her sleep and Clarke had scooted closer to the main source of heat, so that she was precariously situated on the edge of the mattress and likely to fall off at any moment. Unfortunately, there really wasn't much Lexa could do about this tableau besides frown. That little bit of envy reared its ugly head again. She tamped it down and decided to look at the bright side of things. If she had remained where she was last night, Clarke might very well be dead right now. She shuddered, thinking about waking up to such a sight, and then went about lighting her lemon candle.

Clarke jostled awake when she realized a warm hand was on her shoulder. Then she promptly hit the carpet a few inches below her, falling into the side of the other air mattress as she did so. This caused a 'hey!' to come from its occupant, an exclamation that was both familiar and confusing. She scrambled to her feet to find Raven glaring at her from the spot she had last seen Lexa in.

"Raven, what-"

"Ask Lexa," grumbled Raven, turning over and attempting to go back to sleep.

Clarke looked to the other side of the living room to find Lexa in her meditative state, the lesbian candle aglow and sending its invigorating scent forth. Her lips were slightly upturned and Clarke knew she wasn't actually meditating at this point. Clarke went to stand over her and-

Lexa replied without opening her eyes. "Her identity is compromised. The police have determined she was present at the morgue. Naturally staying at her residence would have been foolhardy. So here she is."

When Clarke didn't reply, Lexa cocked an eye open and upward. Clarke had stilled in place, giving her a blank look. "When you say the police," she said slowly, eyes finding hers again, "who do you mean exactly?"

Lexa opened the other eye, tilting her head to the side. "I'm not sure I follow."

Clarke dropped down in front of her so that their faces were mere inches apart. She placed her hands on her shoulders. "This is very important, Lexa. _Who_ knows that Raven was there?"

"The 100th precinct-"

"Fuck!" interjected Clarke, jumping back to her feet. She paced around agitatedly for some moments, muttering to herself. "...more time...not safe..."

Alarmed, Lexa pushed herself to her feet as well, moving back and forth with Clarke, attempting to get her attention but also stay out of range of her erratic movements. Then Clarke whirled away from her and into the bedroom. Before Lexa could pursue, Clarke bustled out, her gun in hand. Highly alarmed now, she chased after Clarke who was already making her way down the stairs, still dressed in her pyjamas. On the way, Lexa kicked the side of Raven's mattress and hissed, "Get up!"

"Clarke. Clarke. _Clarke_." Lexa grabbed Clarke's clothed arm, her own hand bare. Clarke finally stopped, just feet from the front door. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

Clarke turned slowly to face her, face agonized like it had been last night. Her shoulders slumped. "I haven't been completely honest with you." She sucked in a sharp breath and released it noisily. It seemed like ages past as she held Lexa's gaze before saying, "I know who killed me."

"You _what_?!" yelled Raven from just behind them, startling them badly and almost knocking heads together. Raven looked at Clarke incredulously for a second and then became utterly incensed. "If you knew who did it, why the fuck have I been busting my ass all day chasing non-existent perps?!" She advanced on Clarke pushing her into an aisle stocked with a variety of seeds. There wasn't a ton of daylight filtering into the shop from the windows, but it was enough to see just how irritated Raven was. "Why the fuck didn't you tell us sooner?! Like when I fucking asked you?!"

Lexa wanted to intervene but also didn't want to risk the altercation going further sideways.

"Because!" shouted back Clarke, hand shaking around the gun. Whether from anger or fear or both, Lexa couldn't say. In any case, it made her anxious. "It was too dangerous! I didn't want anyone else getting involved in this shit storm!"

"Look around you, bitch, we're involved!"

"Raven-"

Clarke pushed Raven back. "Well _excuse_ me for wanting to protect the woman I l-"

She blushed faintly and Raven laughed humourlessly. "For fucks sake!" She threw her hands up. "Just fucking say it already! You love Lexa! She loves you! The least shocking revelation of the fucking day!"

Their eyes flitted to each others shyly, faces undoubtedly bright. Raven looked between them and scoffed. Though this short reprieve had allowed her to master herself better. "Anyway, can we get back to the matter at hand? You gonna fill us in now, blondie?" Her eyes lowered to the gun. "Tell us where you were going off half cocked?"

Before Clarke could speak, Lexa gestured to the windows and the people passing by. Message received, they retired to her apartment. This time to discuss what really happened to Clarke that night.

The facts were these: Dr. Griffin really did attend a seven o'clock showing of Ghostbusters with her college friends Octavia and Lincoln. And she really did enjoy the movie, even tweeting about it afterwards with several happy faced emoticons. Octavia really did bring her brother Bellamy Blake along, and not so subtly attempt to set them up for the umpteenth time. Her well meaning friend really did make a lame excuse that forced her and her husband to leave them at his apartment. Bellamy really did make her supper.

However that was as far as the story went by Clarke's original reckoning. For you see, Clarke's less than favourable relationship with Finn Collins caused her to harbour intense suspicion of any and all potential suitors, and people in general. She didn't often have access to his apartment, so while Bellamy cooked their meal, Clarke excused herself to the washroom and instead went into his bedroom to have a look around. She had always thought there was something a little off about Bellamy, something both Octavia and Lincoln seemed unaware of. Perhaps it was because they had known him since they were children, and were accustomed to his habits and facial expressions (or lack thereof), were she had only known him for the past six years, eighteen weeks, two days, five hours and three seconds.

At any rate, Clarke scrounged through his personal belongings and came across something that she shouldn't have.

And he killed her for it.

"Bellamy Blake?" said Lexa, eyebrows raised. "Octavia's brother killed you?"

"Yeah," sighed Clarke, running a hand across her face and through her sleep tousled hair. "He did."

"What did you find?" asked Raven, leaning forward on the kitchen table. She set her cup of tea down.

Clarke rubbed her arms, as if to warm herself from the coldness of her memories. "His trophy collection...or at least, part of it."

Lexa and Raven shared a look. "You mean to tell us, Bellamy is a...serial killer?"

Clarke hugged herself, lips pressed tightly together. She nodded. "Not just any serial killer," she said, voice a bit quavering. "The Phantom Killer."

Raven shot upright in her seat while Lexa simply experienced an unpleasant shiver down her spine. "But they caught the guy a couple of months ago. He confessed!"

Clarke shook her head adamantly. "It wasn't him. I'm guessing Bellamy was tired of the FBI poking around his place of business, so he framed one of their persons of interest using some of his own keepsakes. As to Donaldson's confession, well, he was an extremely delusional attention seeker." Clarke shrugged. "A pretty safe bet he was going to go along for the ride."

"Wait a second," said Lexa, looking to Clarke, wide eyed, "his place of business?"

Clarke smiled grimly. "Yeah. Now you get it. He's a cop too. Hundredth precinct."

"Well, fuck," exhaled Raven, thumping back into her seat.

They sat in gloomy silence for a time until Lexa said, "But Clarke, how do you _know_ it's Bellamy? It could be anyone from the 100th precinct. They were the ones handling your case after all."

"It's him. And I can prove it." She looked to Raven. "You say your file was accessed. Well, if that were so, shouldn't your picture have been distributed around? Shouldn't it be on the morning news? I bet you anything his cop buddies and the media won't hear a peep about this. He's going to keep this information to himself. So he can deal with us privately."

Just then they heard the lock to the store open. They all jumped in their seats.

"Any chance you were followed here?" whispered Clarke, face stricken.

Raven hesitated. "I didn't think so...but I can't be sure."

When the footsteps made their way up the stairs, both Clarke and Raven grabbed their guns, took cover behind the sofa and pointed them at the apartment door. Lexa stood off to the side, freaked out of her mind. She picked up a vegetable knife and prepared to assist them in any way possible. Of course, she was hoping her place didn't get blasted to kingdom come, but if it came to that, so be it.

There was a knock at the door, in which Clarke would have shot through it if she hadn't forgotten to take the safety off. It was a good thing too as their intruder was simply a lonely gardening assistant wondering where her boss was at a quarter to eight, when Grounders opened.

"Lexa? You in there? Are you okay?"

In all of the excitement, Lexa had completely forgotten what the time was, or that she should've texted Costia to let her know she wouldn't be opening again today.

They had a lot more pressing matters to deal with than selling flowers.

* * *

 **So yeah, tell me what you thought about this 'twist'.**


	13. Chapter 13

Despite Costia's voice partially registering, her frazzled mind kept her feet firmly planted, the grip around the knife still bone crushing. She felt sweaty and faint and sick to her stomach. When the knocking continued unabated, and Lexa showed no signs of moving, Raven holstered her weapon, signaled for Clarke to do the same (though she did not listen) and went over to her. Raven carefully pried the shaking knife from Lexa's clutches and then guided her to the nearest seat before she passed out. This accomplished, Raven went to go deal with Costia herself.

She opened the door just enough to admit the width of her body to Costia's concerned view.

"A little early for that, Cos, don't you think?" said Raven, quite literally meaning it. Everything that had happened so far this morning was a little early. Especially on so little sleep. And no coffee in sight.

"Raven?" said Costia in confusion. Raven had never spent the night to her knowledge. Lexa was mystifyingly close with the crude, brash woman, occasionally going off in the middle of a work shift to God knows where, to do God knows what. And now Claire was in the mix too. It was almost too much to bear. "What are you doing here?" She craned her neck, trying to get a look inside. "Where's Lexa?"

"Lexa's not feeling so hot today," intoned Raven somberly. Perhaps a little too somberly.

"Do you know what it is?" asked Costia, now full of dread. Lexa never got sick. Lexa lived a healthy, wholesome lifestyle. Lexa was everything she aspired to be. Lexa was perfect. "Can I see her? I'm very good with diagnostics and-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Raven, regretting her decision to open this door in the first place. "She's probably contagious."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Costia, wringing her hands. She tried to push past Raven, and just about succeeded as Raven hadn't braced her braced leg. "Let me through!"

Raven almost wished it had been the psycho cop killer. At least that way she could've shot someone. "Seriously, Cos, it's nothing to concern yourself over. And besides, you wouldn't want to enter the quarantine area now would you?"

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Raven would've punched herself in the face like Tyler Durden if she wasn't so busy trying to keep Costia at bay. She grunted with the effort of holding her back, cursing her weaker leg when it gave way and allowed Costia entrance into the apartment.

Raven groaned internally. Both Clarke and Lexa was just standing there like an idiot. At least neither of them were armed anymore. Though Clarke's gun was just lying on the ground by her feet now. Thankfully it appeared as though Costia hadn't noticed. She was too busy fussing over a slightly swaying Lexa, placing her hand to her head and declaring that she was feverish, not once questioning why Lexa was just sitting there like that instead of in bed if she were so sick.

Costia took Lexa's hand and led her into her bedroom, cooing softly to her. Raven distinctly heard 'baby' more than once. Clarke looked ready for murder and stomped in after them. Raven put her face in her hands, muttering, 'why me?' then followed the pack to prevent bloodshed.

When Costia told Lexa to rest and placed a kiss to her forehead, Clarke's eye began to twitch. When Costia began caressing her face, however, Clarke's hands curled into fists and Raven intervened before the redhead could sock her one. "Well, I guess that's that," she said quickly, blocking Clarke with her body. How many more times today would she act as a human shield? "Thanks so much for all your help, Cos. It's really appreciated. Lexa needs her rest though so-"

"Oh I couldn't possibly leave at a time like this!" replied Costia, still staring at Lexa intently, still stroking her face.

Either Raven got Costia out of there or Clarke did. Seemed like it was up to her...as usual. She grabbed Costia's arm as gently as she could and began maneuvering her towards the door, despite her protests. Finally she shoved her out and locked and chained the door, panting with exertion. "Go home, Cos! Grounders is closed for business today!"

Costia knocked for nearly a minute before finally giving up and vacating the premises, sick with worry over Lexa's well being. She would stop by again at noon with her world famous chicken soup. That would perk Lexa right up. She was sure of it.

By the time Raven re-entered the bedroom, Lexa was sitting upright, blinking in confusion. She had a hand over her heart, which was no doubt still racing. "What happened?" She frowned at her bed. "Why am I here?"

Clarke just looked relieved that Lexa was reacting again and not on the verge of collapse.

"You freaked over dead girls little revelation. Short circuited your brain for a few minutes." Raven shrugged her shoulders. "It happens." She was basing her opinion on some soldiers she had interacted with who had PTSD. Certain noises were bound to set them off, and by off, she meant, a panic attack. Lexa's was mostly internal, but a panic attack nonetheless.

Lexa looked to Clarke who nodded in confirmation. "Huh," said Lexa, rubbing at her forehead. "That's never happened to me before." She looked at her fingers, raising an eyebrow. Her guilty gaze darted to Clarke – who was standing stock still again, lips sealed in repressed displeasure – before landing elsewhere. She rubbed the rest of the apparently familiar shade of lipstick away without further comment.

Then Lexa tried to push herself out of bed, but Clarke insisted she stay there for a little while longer, until her heart went back to normal rhythms. When everyone had calmed back to their only slightly elevated heart rates – true composure was impossible now - they moved into the living room and began discussing their options. First on the docket was whether they should stay put where they were or move someplace more secure. Raven's place was well equipped to the task of safe house but it was no good as Bellamy could simply bide his time outside.

"I don't think he knows we're here though," said Raven. "I didn't notice anyone following me from my house. Or on foot after I ditched my car a couple blocks away."

"And the fact that we're still alive is probably another indicator he doesn't know where we are," added Clarke.

"It might be best to simply stay put then," said Lexa. She glanced at Clarke sheepishly. "Though if we do, we may need to continue to deal with Costia..."

"She is a persistent one," Clarke glowered. "After the story Raven spun, I'm almost positive she's going to come back again today." Clarke huffed, crossing her arms. "So I _guess_ we should go someplace else, if only to keep her out of this mess."

"The question is where?" wondered Lexa.

Raven pipped up then. "I may know a place."

* * *

As they were descending into the depths of Polis' less than stellar public transportation, a young man bumped into Lexa. Without so much as a word of apology, he bustled past them.

"Kids these days," muttered Raven, in a crotchety manner. "You might want to check your pocket, Lexa. Make sure you weren't jacked. And if you were, well, I hope you've been keeping in shape because I'm sure as hell not running after him."

Lexa quickly checked her inner pocket and was relieved to find her wallet still in place. Both her companions had cash or credit on them so it wasn't pivotal that she keep hers as well, however, the last thing they needed was to add identity theft to their long list of concerns.

While Raven paid for their fares, the homeless man wandering around picking up garbage on the other side of the ticket taker, kept glancing in their direction. Specifically Clarke's direction. Though she was wearing large sunglasses that covered half her face, a high collared shirt, and was otherwise disguised with the red hair, he seemed to have taken an interest in her, and began to trail behind them as they made their way upstairs to the train platform.

While they waited for the train to arrive, he came right up to them, smelling strongly of urine and other unpleasant things, and asked if they could spare some change. Lexa, being the kind hearted individual she was, gave him a couple dollars worth from the depths of her calf length jackets pockets. He thanked her kindly and then looked to Raven.

Raven told him to piss off now, which he ignored, instead setting his sights on Clarke again. She only had hundred dollar bills on her though, so she couldn't exactly pull that out without attracting even more unwanted attention. "I'm sorry," she told him. "I don't have anything to give you."

He looked at her keenly, eyes flashing to her hair briefly, and said, "Are you sure about that, miss?"

The way he was looking at her and the way he said that, made her anxious. _He couldn't possibly know who I am, could he? Is this some sort of shake down?_

"She told you to get lost," barked Raven unconcernedly. "So for the last time, get going."

The man gave her another unnerving look and then moved away from them to go bother other people waiting for the same train.

"Goddamn subways," grumbled Raven, kicking at a bit of garbage and then grimacing when it revealed a wad of chewed gum that now stuck to her shoe. "For fucks sake!" she complained, trying to scrape it off on the edge of one of the brick columns.

The train arrived a few moments later and they stepped on, walking to the end of the cabin where they wouldn't be the centre of attention for anyone's roving eyes. The homeless man didn't follow them on, for which they were grateful.

After a brief musical countdown, the doors slid shut and they began to pull away. It was during this departure that Clarke caught sight of another man keenly watching her on the platform, and all the blood drained from her face.

Lexa of course noticed right away and said, "Clarke? Clarke, what's wrong?"

She looked where Clarke had been looking, but by then they had already passed the original source of her disquiet. Still, Lexa had a pretty good idea of what she had seen.

It appeared their secret was out. Bellamy knew Clarke was still alive. Whatever element of surprise they may have used against him in future, was now forfeit.

They got off at the next stop so that Clarke could have a mini-meltdown in the privacy of the absolutely disgusting washrooms.

"How did he find us?!" she exclaimed, startling a slovenly woman who was washing her hands, or perhaps just redistributing the dirt. She skedaddled soon after. Everyone knew you only used the subway washrooms if you had no other choice. For this reason, they had no more eavesdroppers.

"He must've followed me after all," admitted Raven reluctantly. She was keeping her eye on the main door, hand hovering over her holster. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Oh no," groaned Clarke, pacing in an agitated manner again, "that means he knows who Lexa is now too! This is _exactly_ why I wanted to keep this to myself! I should've just done it when I had the chance! I should've just knocked on his door and shot him dead! But I was too afraid to face him again!" She whirled, kicking a stall door open with a bang.

Raven jumped. "Fucking hell! Would you warn an armed girl first before you do something like that?!"

Clarke continued on in her tirade, oblivious. "I'm a fucking coward! And now we're _all_ going to die!"

She was close to both hyperventilating and crying. Lexa hated seeing her this way, so hopeless and frantic. Admittedly, she was less than relaxed at the moment, but Clarke needed her to be strong, so she was. It was probably a bad idea to touch Clarke while she was emotionally compromised, so she didn't, instead attempting to catch her glistening eyes.

"Hey, hey. No one's going to die, Clarke. We'll figure something out. I know it doesn't seem like it at the moment, but I promise we will." She hazarded a hand on her shoulder when it seemed like she was calming down a bit. "We're stronger together."

Clarke let out a shuddering sigh, that was reminiscent of a sob. She took her gloved hand. "I really wish I could hug you right now."

Remembering the last time they had wanted to do this but had been unable to, Lexa looked towards Raven who was wholly focused on the only entrance (and exit) out of here. She cleared her throat loudly but that wasn't enough to grab her attention. So Lexa tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to jump again.

"What the fuck, Lexa?! What the fuck do you want?!"

"This is going to sound a little strange-"

"Like that's a change," scoffed Raven, regaining her composure.

"I would appreciate it greatly if you'd hug Clarke for me."

"What?" said Raven, with a dumb look. She glanced at Clarke, who also seemed confused. "Why should I hug dead girl?"

"Just do it," implored Lexa. "Please."

"For fucks sake," grumbled Raven, moving towards Clarke. Clarke looked at Lexa who simply nodded. Clarke then accepted the hug gratefully, all the while staring at Lexa, imagining it was her that she held. She was surprised when Lexa positioned herself behind Raven, hugging her from behind, head on Raven's other shoulder, so that there was a buffer between them, preventing them from touching skin like they had in her dream. Clarke could feel Lexa's hands added to her back and she smiled into Raven's neck, holding her even tighter.

"You two are _so_ giving me an all expense paid trip to the Bahamas when this is over with," muttered Raven. Despite her gruff attitude, she was also smiling. It was nice to be held. It had been awhile since anyone had. It didn't hurt that they both smelled pretty damn nice, blocking out the more unsavoury smells of the washroom.

They remained that way for precisely sixteen point seven seconds until the door to the washroom sounded open. They parted and the tall woman standing there stared at them for only a moment in confusion before bolting into the closest stall. They didn't stick around much longer.

* * *

Everyone calmed down again, they reclaimed the next train and then began a very circuitous route to their destination, getting on various different lines, making sure their trail couldn't be followed further.

On one such train, Clarke caught sight of an unusual looking couple holding hands. They were dressed in some sort of colourful spandex that covered their entire bodies, head to toe. To be honest, since their faces couldn't be seen, they looked a bit bizarre and unnerving, and were attracting attention from others as well. She elbowed Lexa, who raised both eyebrows at the sight, wondering if perhaps there were other people in the same predicament as themselves. Before she could stop her, Clarke had gotten out of her seat, and began making her way to them, grabbing onto the poles from time to time.

They looked up (at least Clarke thought they did) and simply stared at her. "Hi," she said a bit awkwardly with a wave. "I don't mean to be bothersome...but I couldn't help but notice your outfits, and I have to say, I really like them."

Lexa arrived right then. " _Clarke_ ," she hissed by her side. "Come back to your seat."

Clarke ignored her and continued onward. "So...did you guys make them, or did you buy them somewhere? 'Cause, I'd really like to have one for myself and my friend here. If you could help us out, we'd be forever grateful."

Neither of them had yet to speak a word. She smiled as brightly as she could to cover this up.

" _Clarke_ ," intoned Lexa again, tugging on her arm. "Leave these people alone. They clearly don't want to talk to you."

Clarke turned to glare at Lexa. "Maybe if you'd stop interrupting us, they could get a word in edgewise. I'm surprised you're being so resistant to this. I thought you wanted to-"

"Of course I do," murmured Lexa, flushing slightly, "but you're drawing too much attention to us and-"

" _I'm_ the one drawing too much attention to us?!" she whisper shouted. "No one was paying _any_ attention to us until you came over here! This could be our _one_ chance to get something for our little problem! We can't squander it-"

"Uh, guys," said Raven standing behind them.

"What?!" they both said a little too loudly, causing a bunch of heads to turn.

Raven looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh. She pointed towards the closing doors and the two colourful figures on the other side of them.

"No!" exclaimed Clarke, slamming into them. But it was too late, they were already moving again.

Dejectedly, Clarke went to go take a different seat. One beside Raven. Lexa wisely didn't say anything to her for awhile.

* * *

A few minutes later, as they were waiting for their next train, Raven held her phone out to Clarke, showing her a picture of a similar looking outfit. Clarke grabbed the phone away from her, scrolling to see what it was.

 _Zentai. A skin-tight Japanese garment that covered the entire body._

Now that she thought about it, she really should have thought of this earlier. It wasn't the first time she had seen people wearing this around the city. Hell, even the Power Rangers wore them. So now all they had to do was find someplace that sold them and then she and Lexa could _cuddle_ to their hearts content. It would be a bit weird not being able to see Lexa's face, but that was a small price to pay for the privilege of uninhibited touching. Speaking of Lexa, she figured she could forgive her now, so she sidled up to her and took her hand.

They held on, smiling until they finally breathed fresh(er) air above ground.

* * *

 **Haha, Clarke acting like a little rambunctious kid and Lexa being the disapproving mother. I crack myself up sometimes. What'd y'all think?**

 **I don't actually hate subways that much but they can be pretty gross so...**

 **And I know, I know. I'm depicting Bellamy OOC here. In the show he was a sociopath who killed indiscriminately, here he's a more composed psychopath. Like Dexter. Actually, he's very similar to Dexter now that I think about it. Haha oops.**


	14. Chapter 14

**I don't know why but for some reason I really struggled with this chapter. I hope it's not complete shite but I dunno.**

* * *

Lexa and Clarke stared ahead and then at one another.

"This massive...warehouse is your safehouse?" frowned Lexa.

"Why is there some big bald dude standing outside?" asked Clarke.

Raven didn't look at them as she said, "I came here last night and-"

They stared at each other again. "You brought us into _gang_ territory?" said Lexa, utterly bewildered. "I'm not sure I see how _this_ is safer-"

"It'll be fine," said Raven unconcernedly, more or less believing that herself. The guard outside the side door she had exited from the previous night was not the same guy. This could go better or worse than that encounter. She'd find out shortly.

"Fine?" said Clarke incredulously, stopping in her tracks. She glared at the back of Raven's head, arms crossed. "Wasn't the whole reason I _didn't_ come here last night because I might be recognized? And besides that, I thought we agreed _not_ to involve anyone else? That was kind of the whole point to _leaving_ Grounders."

Raven turned to both of them, annoyed that they were being so resistant to her help. "They won't be," she said, doing her best to keep her tone civil. "I'm just going to ask Anya if we can crash here for a bit until we figure out a plan of action. She doesn't need to know _why_ we're here though. None of them do." She gestured unconcernedly at Clarke. "And I doubt she'll recognize you. That was Lexa's concern. Not mine. People are pretty dense. Believe me. I bet you could walk up to your own mother like this and she wouldn't know you. Just disguise your voice a bit. Or better yet, don't speak at all."

For the third time in less than a minute, Clarke and Lexa shared a look. Why was Raven being so blase about all this? Why was she so determined to go back there?

"Anya?" said Lexa, eyebrow arched. "I thought you spoke with Heda?"

Raven just barely managed to suppress the flush at her blunder. "I did," she muttered gruffly. "They're the same person."

"So...you're on a first name basis with the leader of a criminal organization after only one... _interrogation_?"

She should've had more shame but Lexa just couldn't help herself. It was so rare to see Raven flustered about a girl. Or boy. Or anything for that matter. She had that in common with Clarke, serial killers notwithstanding.

Raven huffed in annoyance and embarrassment. "Turns out I used to know her," she replied.

"Wait, what?" said Lexa, smirk disappearing. This was news to her. She had a pretty good memory and was almost certain Raven had never mentioned anyone named Anya.

Lexa was not mistaken. Miss Reyes had only once uttered Anya's name and lamented her story to a fellow technician by the name of Monty Green. They had imbibed copious amounts of his infamous and strictly prohibited moonshine. During this blackout drunk stage, she had decided that it was a very good idea to blow up a tub of butter in the quartermasters quarters (with Anya's high school picture secured beneath the IED).

The quartermaster being an incredibly asinine and rigorous rule keeper - who Raven swore had it in for her - it seemed like just desserts. Unfortunately, she had boisterously told anyone who passed by what she had done, even her superior officers. And since the quartermaster was the son of an influential General, they subsequently had no choice but to reprimand her in the most severe way, and to discharge her from the service, regardless of her many uses on and off the field. It was one of their greatest mistakes. They attempted to recruit her again a few months later, but by then, Raven had lost interest in military living, having regained a fond appreciation for hot and frequent baths, alone...or otherwise.

"Just...drop it," said Raven, scowling at her.

Lexa nodded, knowing all too well there were certain topics best left unexplored.

"Let's get this over with," said Raven to herself, marching up to the latest guard.

She had been wrong earlier in her assessment of what would happen. It didn't go better or worse. It went exactly the same. He grabbed Raven (who was several steps ahead of the others) and rammed her into the side of the building. Caught off guard (though she really shouldn't have been) she banged her (still recovering) knee into the wall, making her cry out. Before Clarke and Lexa could protest too much, or perhaps pull a gun on him, the door clicked open, and the machete guard from the previous night told him to release her. Confused, the guard obeyed, and then followed the trio into Heda's interview room.

Again, Raven walked ahead of them, suppressing winces all the way, until she found herself face to face with Anya once more. The bruise left by her hard head appeared to be mostly masked by the black face paint, which is just as well. Raven had a funny feeling the Trikru would not have taken kindly to her assaulting their leader. She supposed the one guard brave enough to show his face during the altercation was told to keep his mouth shut. Even though she couldn't see it, she still felt vaguely guilty. If her leg wasn't hurting so badly again, she might have even apologized today. As it was, she wasn't in the mood, and had already begun to regret bringing them here.

"This is...unexpected," said Anya, eyes flitting over her companions before settling back on Raven.

That appeared to be all she was going to say by way of greeting so Raven swallowed and said, "Yeah, I hope this isn't too much of an imposition, considering...but uh, my friends and I could use a place to stay for a bit. Off the grid."

Anya looked at her for so long that she couldn't hold back another grimace. Heda then directed her unnerving stare towards the male guard who promptly stood taller, waiting for orders. "She's injured."

"Yes, Heda," he said as stoically as he could muster. His eyes darted towards the sheathed sword. It was ludicrous to think Anya would decapitate him right then and there. Wasn't it?

"I wasn't aware that you were acquainted with these individuals."

"They are my guests from this point forth," said Anya, surprising everyone in the room. "See them to the guest chambers."

"Right away, Heda," he said, gesturing to them to move off into a corridor. Clarke mouthed 'guests?' to Lexa, who would have laughed under different circumstances. The guest chambers weren't a torture dungeon as Clarke might have supposed, nor were they particularly grand. The concrete floor was slightly sticky and discoloured. The chairs around the square table were ratty and would probably break apart if they sat in them. The queen sized bed sheets looked like they hadn't been washed in years, and there was a thin layer of dust coating everything else. They were definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Raven stumbled into the room behind them, and Lexa caught her, steadying. She helped her sit down on a chair and it held, though it did creak a bit. Lexa brought another chair across from Raven and sat down, pulling her braced leg into her lap. Raven's protests didn't last long after Lexa removed the brace and began to massage her continually abused knee joints.

She grinned dopily, closing her eyes. "Damn, I forgot how good you were with your hands."

Lexa stopped momentarily when she noticed Clarke's indignant expression, then continued on. Clarke needed to stop getting jealous at every turn. She knew this, but she couldn't seem to help it. Not being able to have all of Lexa when she was so stressed out was starting to make her screws loose.

A short while after this, Anya herself appeared at the door, which apparently didn't have a lock. It seemed an odd choice for a guests space, but perhaps it was the best she could offer?

She eyed the two of them, hands subtly clenching at her sides. "I must apologize on behalf of Dekk. My people can sometimes be...overzealous."

"Don't worry about it," waved off Raven, quite enjoying herself now. In that moment, Raven thought she could've been quite happy with Lexa if she hadn't been so immovable in her opinion of Clarke. Her blissful bubble was popped a few seconds later.

"Would you do me the honour of introducing me to your wife?"

The room went deathly quiet, and Raven wished the floor would open up and consume her so that she didn't have to explain herself. She was a relatively good person, she didn't deserve this shit. Sure she didn't like homeless people very much but that was because they reminded her of her drug addicted deadbeat mother. Raven didn't even know if she was alive or dead right now. A sentiment she shared at the moment. She was Schrodinger's fucking cat. Her fate depended on who opened the box.

Clarke guffawed in disbelief. "Raven, what the hell is she talking about?"

Dead, dead. She was dead.

Cringing, Raven hazarded a look at Anya. Rather than be put off by being misled, she seemed to be happy. She almost seemed to be smiling. Or maybe Raven was seeing things that weren't there because she was phasing out of existence.

"My mistake," said Anya, stance relaxing slightly. Raven wondered if Anya had served in the military at one point herself. Or if she had been raised by someone who had later on in life. She definitely hadn't been this rigid when they were in high school together. Or spoken nearly as formally. Though she had still been intimidating...for various reasons.

"This is Lexa," said Raven quickly, unbelieving at her good fortune. Why was Anya letting this slide? "A friend of mine."

Anya nodded, her gaze moving to Clarke, who suddenly stopped smirking. "And you are?"

Clarke was irritated when Lexa spoke for her, but only for a second. "She's my girlfriend."

It was silly of her to get a thrill out of hearing that, after all she wasn't in high school anymore, and yet, they had a similar relationship to that of teenagers. Minus all of the fun touching stuff.

Anya nodded solemnly again, apparently not even caring that a name hadn't been given. Though, just like the homeless man, her gaze lingered on her hair. Maybe she needed to rethink her disguise?

The fact that she was wearing sunglasses in a dimly lit room never even crossed her mind as being a little odd. She wasn't exactly a celebrity or anything. More likely people would think she was high and trying to cover up her bloodshot eyes.

"It's good to meet you both," said Anya, glancing between Clarke and Lexa.

She stared at Raven again, who forced herself to meet her gaze. What is her deal? "Well, I'll leave you to it."

Anya left the room and just like that, Raven could breathe again. She pulled her leg away from Lexa in order to redo her brace, all the while avoiding their bemused looks.

"That was...unexpected," said Lexa, unconsciously mimicking Anya from earlier.

Now that Raven thought about it, they were eerily similar in a number of ways. "Drop it," she said again. "We've got a lot more important things to discuss than my failed teenage romances." Fuck. Why did she say that? Her brilliant mind had been off lately and all because fucking dead girl forced her to come here when there was absolutely no fucking reason.

Wisely they didn't say anything more to her about Anya. In an effort to get more comfortable, Raven took off her backpack with her clothes and laptop in it. "So..."

There was a knock at the door. Now what?

"Come in," called Lexa politely.

The dick guard, Dekk, was standing there, filling up the whole door frame. "Forgive my interruption," he said. "There is a beef stew being served in the commons. Would any of you like some?"

Not knowing where they were going, Clarke had packed three sandwiches and drinks. "We're good," she said patting her back. The pack was hurting her lower back but she had reservations about putting it down on the grimy ground, or bed here. And letting her money and gun out of sight was also a factor in wanting to keep it close.

Dekk looked like he had been struck by lightning. He looked to the others for confirmation that they too wouldn't be partaking. Even though he needlessly hurt Raven, Lexa felt bad for the guy. Heda's reputation wasn't exactly of the lenient variety. And it was already obvious to her that Anya had a soft spot for Raven, and that Dekk was asking on her orders.

"I'll have some, thank you," she said.

He gave her a slight grateful smile and said, "I'll be right back."

Clarke stared at her funnily. "I thought you said that you don't eat meat?"

"She doesn't," grunted Raven.

"I'm just trying to reciprocate their hospitality," shrugged Lexa. "The Trikru aren't really what I imagined them to be like."

"Oh, trust me," said Clarke darkly, "despite this bizarre politeness, they're still capable of extreme violence."

"Okay, anyway," said Raven, "how about we start-"

"One beef stew," said Dekk, appearing out of thin air. For a big guy, he sure was silent. And fast. What the hell did he do, teleport to the stew and back?

He swept into the room and placed the metal bowl filled to the brim with amber contents on the table.

"Thank you, Dekk," said Lexa, picking up the spoon. "This looks delicious."

He looked between all of them when he was back in the doorway. "Washrooms are just down the hall," he said pointing in the direction.

Raven suppressed a snort. The guy had good timing. Was that supposed to invoke confidence in the cooks ability or what?

"Don't hesitate to ask for anything. Heda's guests should want for nothing."

"Why do I feel like I'm in the witches candy house?" muttered Clarke when he was gone.

Raven let out the pent up snort but otherwise didn't respond. She glanced at Lexa's stew. "So, what are you planning to do with that?"

Lexa pushed it towards her. Raven had to admit it smelled pretty damn good. And she was pretty damn hungry. She doubted it was poisoned or else Dekk would've insisted they all have some. Besides, why would they bother with something like that when they could just slit their throats? And anyway, it didn't seem like Anya had any intent like that.

Raven dug in unceremoniously. An explosion of flavour hit her tongue. "Damn, this is really good you guys. Like _really_ good." She held it out to Clarke who made a face.

Clarke was far from enthused about being here. If she had known ahead of time, she would have never agreed to this. Rather than answer, she shrugged her backpack off, grimacing as she stuck it on the dusty bed covers and a plume of white shot up. She hoped they weren't spending the night. Sleeping on the streets would probably be more sanitary. Between this and the subway, her clothes were going to be ruined.

She pulled out all of the drinks and two of the sandwiches, handing Lexa the vegetarian one. Lexa also removed her backpack and they sat in relative silence eating for a few seconds. Raven was consuming her food with considerably more gusto.

"Let's get down to business," said Clarke. "We don't want to overstay our welcome."

"Well, you've had the longest to process this, Clarke," said Lexa after swallowing. "Did you come up with anything?"

Clarke glanced away busying herself with a sip of bottled water. She grumbled something.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

She huffed. "I said, not really. Shooting him was about it."

"For what it's worth," responded Lexa once she caught her eye, "I'm glad you didn't. You wouldn't want something like that on your conscience."

Clarke was confused at first, then her expression softened. "Lexa...please don't beat yourself up about that anymore. It-"

"Shouldn't I, though, Clarke?" returned Lexa with a little bit of heat. How could Clarke be so callous? "I killed a man. He had a family, friends. People who cared about him. And I just took that away from them. Because I'm selfish and thought you deserved life more than him."

Clarke should've known this was eating away at Lexa, but she had been too wrapped up in her own problems to notice. Lexa was a far gentler soul than herself. She would avoid killing spiders if she could, instead setting them free.

Clarke held her hand out palm up and after a slight hesitation, Lexa took it. "I'm really sorry you had to do that-"

Lexa let go, standing up in agitation. She grasped her wrists behind her back. "That's just it, Clarke. I didn't _have_ to do anything. No one _forced_ my hand. I _chose_ to do it. What kind of person does that make me?"

She followed suit, getting up and placing her hand over her heart. "Human."

They stared at each for awhile until Raven couldn't take it anymore and said, "Would you two stop eye fucking and sit back down?"

They blushed, for indeed that was precisely what they had been doing, each caught up in their own fantasy world.

After reclaiming their seats Raven added, "Cheer up, Lex. Think about it this way, by doing what you did, you've prevented countless other lives from being taken."

That was assuming they were successful in removing Bellamy from society.

"And that's worth a little sacrifice, don't you think?"

"Yes," she conceded eventually, begrudgingly. They sat in contemplation until she continued, "My idea is to go the police-"

Raven choked on a partially masticated piece of beef, but managed to get it down by chugging some water. "Really, Lexa?" she sputtered. "That's the best you've got? That'll go over real well! Hey, this is my girlfriend, Clarke Griffin. Remember her? The dead girl you've been trying to find for days? Well, she's not dead anymore, but she was, and one of your detectives did the killing! And oh, yeah, he's also The Phantom Killer! So you screwed up big time there too!"

Lexa was far from amused. "We'd get evidence first-"

"Yeah, 'cause there was sooo much of it during the FBI investigation! Did you forget _why_ they called him the Phantom Killer? He didn't _leave_ anything incriminating behind on his kills!"

"Clarke mentioned she found trophies-"

"No, absolutely not!" interjected Clarke, bristling. "We aren't breaking into his apartment to look for them. Besides, the likelihood he would have left them there and not just destroyed them after I found them, are slim to none. And even if they were there, and he wasn't lurking in wait for us, we would've attained them _illegally_ , and it would just be thrown out of court!"

Lexa was irritated that they both ganged up on her without even letting her finish a single sentence. "What's _your_ brilliant plan then?" she said tersely to Raven. There was no immediate response. "That's what I thought."

"There's something I've been wondering about for awhile now, Clarke," said Raven once she polished off the last of the stew. " _Where_ did Bellamy kill you?"

Instantly Clarke was uncomfortable, but she had been expecting something like this to come up, so she wasn't completely unprepared. "Where I was found. Just like the police think and papers say."

"Okay," said Raven, with a slight frown. "So you found the trophies in his bedroom, and then he killed you in the alleyway behind your condominium." Clarke nodded. "How did you get there?"

Clarke sighed, resigned to tell them the full truth now. It wasn't fun for her to relive that kind of terror, but it was necessary. She fidgeted with the plastic wrap of her sandwich. "He injected me with some sort of paralytic. I'm guessing it was the designer kind that would only come up in a blood test if the toxicologist specifically looked for it. Anyway, I couldn't move at all, so he carried me to his car and stuck me in the trunk. It was padded down. Again, I'm guessing to prevent bruises inconsistent with a strangulation. It was all set up already though, which tells me I wasn't the first person he's given this exact treatment. It was like being in a coffin, except, I couldn't even scream."

She shivered slightly and Lexa being the gentlewoman she was, took her jacket off and draped it across her shoulders. Hopefully this time, she wouldn't ruin it. Lexa took her hand, and Clarke found the strength to carry on.

"He drove around for awhile. I think he went to a bunch of prostitute stops, then one of them got in and they had a conversation that I couldn't make out. He pulled over somewhere, maybe an alleyway, I don't know...and she got out of the car for a little while before getting back in. He made a comment or two and then drove some more. She got out again, and he only drove a short distance away. He sat there for awhile, maybe an hour or two, then drove a little more and opened the trunk. By the time he pulled me out, I was just starting to regain function of my limbs, as I'm sure he knew. I recognized the back of my building." She swallowed, biting her lip. Despite her best efforts, she was trembling. "Before I could scream for help he had put the belt around my neck and was squeezing..."

Lexa squeezed her own hand, internally burning with rage. Her previous apprehensions about murdering him vanished without a trace. Just like he would once she was through with him.

"Blake used her as a body double," said Raven after a few beats, internally shuddering at Clarke's ordeal. It was one thing to get killed. It was an entirely different one to be psychological tortured for hours first, helpless to prevent your fate. "That's how he got video proof of 'Clarke'," she used air quotes, "coming home at the time he said he dropped her off."

Raven reached down, opened her bag and pulled out her laptop. In sleep mode, it turned on right away. She pulled out her trusty wi-fi enhancer, allowing her to get internet access pretty much anywhere. After a few commands into Linux, she gained access to the 100th's precinct database. A few more commands and she had pulled up the pre-logged video recording of 'Clarke's' arrival home at ten to midnight. Time of death had been logged as between two and three in the morning. That would fit with Clarke's rendition.

She swiveled the laptop around, sending some dust flying. Clarke looked at the woman who had impersonated her. Even she couldn't tell the difference. The cameras weren't close up enough, and the quality was too poor to make out detailed facial features. But she was the right height and figure. Had blue eyes and blonde hair fashioned the same way. And she was wearing her black leather jacket, so whoever was on duty that night, probably wouldn't have suspected anything. Especially not since this woman had her key card and didn't draw any unnecessary attention to herself as she entered the building.

Clarke knew exactly what Raven was thinking, and sure enough...

"If we could find her, she could testify against Blake."

Clarke gave her a sardonic look. "Do you _really_ think he's that sloppy? He doesn't like loose ends. He probably killed her the same night he killed me. But since I'm best friends with his sister who _knew_ I was with him that night, he couldn't just disappear _me_." Clarke gestured to the screen. "She was dead the moment she got into the car."

It was Raven's turn to get irritated. She had thought she had a really good idea there. "Okay, dead girl, I'm gonna need you to give me something to work with here, or we might as well just go stand in the street with bulls-eyes on our backs."

They glared at one another and were therefore rather startled when Lexa spoke up for the first time in awhile, especially with such ominous words.

"Blood must have blood. He has to die."

* * *

 **Looks like there's more than one Heda in town. lol**


	15. Chapter 15

**Yeah, so this chap got a bit away from me. I feel like it's bizarre even for this story but maybe I'm exaggerating. I thought I only had enough material to cover 2 chapters at the trikru headquarters but apparently I had three (or more), so I 'had' to split them up or this chap would've been really long, and that's why this update is kind of delayed.**

 **Also, I weirdly got a YT recommended video called The Girl Who Never Ages...**

* * *

At this very moment, in the gang headquarters of the Trikru, our heroines sat in a dusty room which was infested with two or three forms of asbestos, and discussed various ways in which to end Bellamy Blake's life. What started out as a serious venture, eventually gave way to the ludicrous, or at least rather implausible. The most recent methods of dispatchment were all animal related and were as follows: death by police dog, death by horse trampling, death by a horde of bees, death by shark attack, and death by rabid gorilla.

Clarke laughed. "That's about as likely to happen as Bellamy getting hit by a spear!"

"Yes," giggled Lexa, mostly from exhaustion. "Or me throwing a dagger into his heart!"

Raven was also a little delirious, and was therefore quite proud of the reaction her antics had produced. She glanced down at the ground to find an old, half disintegrated candy wrapper. "Wait, wait, I got the best one yet," she grinned, "we lure him into an old fashioned candy shop, 'cause who doesn't like candy, right? We lead him into the back where they make the stuff, and then we...drown him in taffy!"

Clarke and Lexa looked at each other and then burst into hysterics. This sort of childish behaviour wasn't getting them anywhere, and yet, it was just the sort of medicine they needed. A brief reprieve from gloom and doom always did the heart some good, no matter what age you were. They knew soon enough that a real plan of action must be determined, but for now, they would allow Raven's wild fancies to play out in all their mischievous glory.

Forty-seven minutes later they had all rushed to the washroom on at least one occasion to prevent soiling themselves further than all of the dust and grime had. Then it was back to business, and they in all seriousness revisited Clarke's earlier idea of tranquilizing him with poison.

"We'd just have to wait for him to show up at his apartment after work-"

"Actually, that might be kind of difficult," said Raven, sorting through various windows on her computer. "It says here that Blake's taken some time off from active duty." She rolled her eyes. "On account of him being emotionally compromised."

"Are you serious?" scoffed Clarke.

If he was pretending to console Octavia, Clarke would rip his head off with her bare hands.

"It's actually a pretty smart move though," said Lexa, grimacing slightly at the death glare Clarke gave her. "And it also allows him to spend as much time as he needs dealing with us, unhindered by his other duties."

Raven said, "I still say we should plant a car bomb-"

"No," interjected both Clarke and Lexa.

"We're not going to risk other casualties," continued Lexa.

"Fine," grumbled Raven, crossing her arms. She hadn't gotten to blow anything up besides some fireworks last summer. It wasn't fair. "But my idea would erase any evidence we might unintentionally leave behind. Poisons not exactly going to kill him without a trace."

"Yeah, 'cause a fireball of two tons of wrecked metal isn't going to draw any attention," returned Clarke sarcastically. "Besides, I already told you, I can get access to _succinylcholine_ , which will break down into naturally occurring metabolites immediately after injection and will be virtually undetectable."

Lexa had googled that one. _Succinylcholine_ , or _SUX_ for short was a neuromuscular paralytic used in anesthetic. In small doses it relaxed muscles, allowing physicians to put breathing tubes down throats easier. In larger doses however, it would make a person stop breathing altogether, within minutes. Bellamy had clearly used something different on Clarke, but Lexa had no doubt that Clarke chose this particular method as a form of poetic justice.

"And just how exactly do you intend to pick it up?" countered Raven. "Even if you weren't...dead, I'm sure that stuff's a controlled substance, under lock and key."

Clarke rubbed underneath her eyes with her thumb and index finger. She needed some kind of a pick me up. She wondered where Dekk had gone off to and if he could procure an energy drink. "I'm not sure about that part yet," she admitted. "But you're good with computers and technology, right? So maybe you could hack the security system or something."

"I suppose I could do that. Given enough time. But I'd have to be on site. I can't do things like that from my laptop. Not without prior access."

The database that stored everyone's personal information, medical history and drug use was a completely separate entity. It was sadly, a much easier nut to crack than opening some doors.

"If we do this," said Lexa, "I should go in alone. There's too many people who could recognize you there, Clarke. It's not like here. You worked with them for _years_."

"No," said Clarke. "The place is too big. You won't have any idea where you're going and much more likely to draw attention to yourself."

"I don't think you should risk it," insisted Lexa. "Especially since you can't exactly wear sunglasses in a lab coat and not be suspicious."

"How about Clarke here pretends to be a patient," said Raven, "and, Lexa, you can put on the lab coat and push her around in a wheelchair, and Clarke can direct you to where you gotta go while I create a distraction to draw out the security guards from the control room and-"

Lexa didn't know which spy movie Raven was getting her idea from - though she was sure she had seen this very scenario in something – but it was ridiculous and giving her a headache.

"We should just come up with a different plan," groaned Lexa, rubbing her temples. "This is becoming unnecessarily complicated. We could just poison him with some generic weed-be-gone from my store. It doesn't matter if they trace it then. Literally thousands of people in this city alone would have some."

They were silent for a bit and Lexa thought perhaps she had swayed them.

"Or," said Clarke, with a sudden 'of course' look across her face that made Lexa anxious, "I just swipe someone's key card and use that."

"You're in the habit of pick pocketing, are you, Clarke?" grinned Raven. Clarke shrugged modestly. "That's hot."

"Okay, fine," said Lexa, intensely annoyed at the way they were smirking at each other, "let's say for the moment that I agree to this plan." Which in fact she did not. There were at least twenty-six aspects of it that were raising her blood pressure to dangerous levels. "Clarke pulls a Jason Bourne and gets the SUX without being detected. Then what? How do you plan to administer the drug? How do we get close enough to do that without him catching on?"

"Like I already said," said Clarke, getting a bit annoyed at the continued resistance, "we trank him from a distance, then grab the dart and go on our merry way."

"And what if he hasn't been staying at his place in recent days? Or he's with someone else? Like Octavia or Lincoln? What then?"

Clarke should have considered that possibility earlier. The last thing she wanted to do was accidentally kill her best friend. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

"We set up a meet and greet," said Clarke, admittedly grasping at straws. "In an open space. Stick him when he's looking for us."

"A meet and greet?" groaned Raven, incredulously. "Really? He'd know something was up from a mile away. He'd never even show."

"Clarke might be on to something," said Lexa, to Clarke's surprise. "Rather than try to track him down ourselves, we could create some kind of situation that required him to show himself, but that he wouldn't suspect we were the authors of."

Clarke thought about it for a bit, then sighed. She ran her hands across her face, digging the heels into her eyes to alleviate the burn. It was almost as bad as that time she put on Lexa's sunglasses. There was something about this room, about the staleness of the air that was killing her normally dry eyes.

"Even if we come up with the most brilliant idea ever, I still think he's going to know it's a trap. There's a reason he hasn't been caught yet, and it has nothing to do with luck. Bellamy is freakishly smart. He doesn't look like he would be, and he hides it a lot of the time, but he is. I don't even think Octavia has any clue just how intelligent he is."

Before Clarke could continue her line of thought, Raven hopped out of her seat and grabbed Lexa's coat, which had been draped across the back of Clarke's chair since she hadn't actually been cold and that was hours ago. She then threw it on top of the table, knocking over a closed bottle of water and began running her hands over every inch of it.

"Raven, what the hell are you doing?" asked Clarke, alarmed that she was all but destroying Lexa's only other jacket. Gustus' leather jacket notwithstanding.

Rather than respond, Raven continued feeling the coat up like it was her lover and she was extra horny, and then after some bewildered moments, she finally stopped, sighing with relief.

Lexa and Clarke were staring at her like she were insane, so she explained, "Remember how I thought you might have been jacked, Lexa? Well, you just mentioned tracking and I wondered if maybe that kid had stuck something on you. But there's nothing here." Raven laughed a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. "That would've been fucking embarrassing for me. Not to mention he'd know where we are, which wouldn't have been great. Do you mind checking your person, Lexa? Just to make sure I didn't miss anything."

Lexa nodded. Then, self consciously, she started moving her hands around her torso, willfully ignoring both of their gazes. "What exactly am I searching for here, Raven?"

"Any little snag. Anything that doesn't feel like it should be there. I doubt he would've put it on you though since you would've been more likely to feel it."

Clarke looked stricken as she said, "What if he put it _in_ her?"

"Nah," said Raven dismissively. The thought had crossed her mind, but that sort of thing would be infinitely harder to find and remove. Especially if it was the kind that only stayed active for twenty-four hours and then disintegrated or passed through your system naturally. "Lexa would've definitely felt something like that. Even if it was just a little pinch. And you didn't, right?"

Lexa shook her head, guiding her hands down her thighs. "No, he just bumped into me because he was staring at his phone. I swear both hands were on it. I only caught a glimpse but I think he was just some kid looking for Pokemon."

She happened to look up then and noticed Clarke raptly watching her hands, which were still on her upper thighs. Blushing, she folded them in her lap instead. "This has got me wondering now, if in fact I haven't been lo-jacked, how exactly was Bellamy planning on finding us again? He didn't seem too concerned about us getting onto the subway. It's weird, don't you think?"

Before the beginnings of unease could fully make its effects known, Dekk poked his head in and made another announcement. That dinner was going to be served in Heda's chambers in ten minutes time. He said it in such as way as to brook no argument, and indeed, they had scarce food supplies and slowly emptying stomachs, so one meal with a criminal mastermind seemed almost welcome. Perhaps more on Raven's part than Clarke and Lexa's.

Lexa was amused to find Raven smoothing out her shirt and pants, more than once eyeing her backpack with her other clothes. Likely she knew if she actually changed for this meal, they would tease her about it later, in between worrying about a serial killer with his sights set on them. As it was, none of them changed (though Raven redid her ponytail) and simply followed Dekk further along the corridor, past the washrooms and down to the end of the hall. Dekk knocked, waited for a reply and when he received it, opened the door for them.

They filed in and then froze. There were no lights on but candles were lit everywhere, filling up the space with a warm glow. Anya stood with her back to them, pouring out glasses of what appeared to be wine. She was wearing what seemed to be her good clothes; a relatively pressed and clean suit, that fit her quite snugly in the rear. When she turned, they could make out half of her face clearly for the first time. Raven assumed her head butt bruise had been concealed via other means. Anya seemed much younger now and much more approachable and Raven was glad that Clarke and Lexa were with her. Anya looked good. Too good. And her life was complicated enough as it was.

Clarke and Lexa, however, wondered if Dekk had been mistaken in inviting them here as well. Anya only had eyes for Raven as she handed her a glass, and as they all took their seats, and commented on the dishes before them. They learned quickly that Raven hadn't exaggerated. The food was delicious. Whoever prepared the meals here should have been a top chef in some high end hipster restaurant in the city. Perhaps they had been in another life.

Anya explained that they had restored a large wood stove some time ago, which is why all of the meats had a smoky flavour to it.

Having feigned interest in the beef stew earlier, Lexa of course, had little to eat besides the nut and fruit salad and mushroom soup. Anya was too busy staring at Raven who was going on and on about the chemical composition of various bombs – a nervous habit of hers – to notice. Clarke traded her own slight vegetarian options in exchange for Lexa's meats. Lexa was somewhat disgusted with the way Clarke was scarfing down the remains of once living creatures, so she averted her gaze as she often did when Raven was chowing down on a burger in front of her.

Raven herself wasn't doing much eating, simply babbling on and on about things none of them could hope to follow even if they had any interest, which they didn't. Finally, she burned herself out and silence pervaded the room – which wasn't dusty in the slightest.

Anya then began simultaneously detailing her love of _Stranger Things_ and taxidermy, somehow managing to not come across as a complete horror show - an exceptional feat no doubt - and Lexa thought this was about the strangest dinner engagement she had ever been to, including the time in middle school they had to dress up in period costumes and pretend to be lords and ladies. Except, since this was post-Clarke, she didn't have any friends and was considered a 'weirdo', so they collectively decided she should be the serving girl, dressed in 'rags' and feigning a limp for some odd reason.

At any rate, the engagement eventually came to an end, and they thanked their host and headed back to their room. That is to say, Clarke and Lexa did. Anya however, requested that Raven stay behind for a moment as there was something she wished to discuss in private.

As soon as the door was closed Anya put her mostly empty glass of wine down and held Raven's gaze. She reached out her hand and placed it over top Raven's. Raven was terrified of where this was headed. She had tried to signal to the others not to leave her alone, but they had been all too eager to escape and hadn't noticed. It irritated her to no end just how much power Anya still had over her and her emotions. She was usually the dominant one in the relationship and consequently she was unsettled that a single touch was causing her to become completely undone. A single touch from someone she had sworn to hate for all time and had gotten kicked out of the military because of. And yet, if it hadn't been for that impromptu explosion, she would probably still be overseas right now, possibly even dead. It seemed as though fate or destiny or whatever bullshit you wanted to call it, thought she should be right here in this very moment. And if that was the case, well, shouldn't she just surrender to what she was feeling and live in the now?

Fuck, she had definitely drunk too much wine. She was starting to think like an absolute love struck idiot. Which of course, she was not. She just hadn't gotten laid since that cheating asshole tried to kill her, that's all. If Anya wanted to get it on, she wouldn't pass that up. But only because she was almost as desperate as Lexa (and she could be killed by a psychopath any day now) not because it would actually mean anything.

Anya looked at her with the softest eyes Raven had seen since their first rather hostile meeting and said, "Who's after you, Raven?"

The spell thus broken, Raven blinked like an ignoramus and said, "What?"

Unperturbed, Anya pressed for information further. "You came to me seeking sanctuary after attempting to ascertain a killer. Surely you don't think I'm that dim witted that I couldn't see that?" Anya almost smirked. "Who better to protect you than other killers?"

Raven gave her a blank look and Anya retracted her hand. Her eyes hardened back to their original level. "Does that bother you? That I've killed people?"

She was surprised to find it wasn't utter bullshit when she replied, "You did what you had to do to survive. We all do."

Part of the softness returned to her eyes, but not all of it. "And that's why you're here? To survive?"

In a quandary, Raven bit her lip. How much should she reveal? None of it? All of it? Somewhere in between?

Anya exhaled gently, looking away. "I realize you have no reason to trust me...but I'm asking you to in this one instance...because despite what you may think to the contrary..." Anya gazed at her again, and in apparent sincerity said, "I _do_ care about you, Raven." She placed her hand over top hers again. "I _always_ have. And I don't want to see you get hurt."

Coger el culo*, she thought eloquently. She was screwed.

* * *

 ***Fuck my ass (at least that's what it's supposed to say. I'm not really sure).**

 **So was this chap totally bizarre or have I just been staring at it for too long?**


	16. Chapter 16

Back at their room, they were surprised to find it in decent shape now. It seemed that someone had been in to dust, change the sheets and otherwise clean while they were at dinner. As a result, the air itself was fresher and Clarke's eyes didn't immediately start to burn.

"Couldn't they have done that earlier?" she grumbled, as she hurried over to her backpack to make sure everything was still present.

"We didn't exactly give them much warning before we dropped in," replied Lexa.

"Yeah, but they're clearly fast workers so they could've just told us to wait outside until they spruced the place up a bit."

"Maybe they were otherwise occupied, Clarke," reiterated Lexa.

"I guess," she agreed.

She was satisfied. Everything appeared to be present. Now what? There wasn't much to do in this room, and without Raven here, there wasn't much point continuing their previous discourse.

"How long do you think she'll be?"

"I don't know," answered Lexa truthfully. "I suppose that depends on what they're discussing."

"Right," said Clarke. They fell into an awkward silence, both aware of what Raven was most likely up to.

Unable to stand the tension any longer Lexa suggested they watch something on Netflix.

Clarke looked towards Raven's closed laptop. "You know her password?"

"No," said Lexa. "I believe she has an algorithm that changes her password daily... " Lexa smirked ever so slightly, "so it's always possible that she might inadvertently lock herself out. I was referring to one of our phones."

At Raven's behest, they had all purchased prepaid phones before getting on the subway. They paid in cash from a place that didn't require you to give any personal information. This way, Bellamy couldn't use his resources to place an illegal trace on any of their numbers or pretend to have lost it and needed the gps turned on. Which was yet another reason why they were bewildered by his apparent lack of interest in keeping track of them some other way.

"Oh."

Lexa pulled the phone out of her back pocket and went to download Netflix. While they waited for that to happen, they took their seats on the fresh smelling bed sheets – plain gray that seemed to be hand sewn – and sat there impatiently. Finally it loaded and Lexa could input her account information and pull up the vast selection of films and tv shows. Feeling self conscious about Clarke's proximity, she chose something at random, and oh how she wished she hadn't.

Within a few minutes there was a sex scene, which featured an attractive, topless woman. Clarke shifted a number of times uncomfortably. The passionate scene seemed to go on forever, becoming increasingly pornographic, and Lexa couldn't take it anymore and tried to move to another section. However, all she accomplished was causing the app to freeze on a close up of the woman's orgasm face. The movie started buffering endlessly at forty-six percent, apparently with the single purpose of taunting her into madness. Clarke cleared her throat and then got off the bed and went over to finish off the last of her water bottle.

When she did however, her eyes alighted on something from earlier that day and a sly grin started to form. She walked back to Lexa, one hand behind her back, with a feigned look of innocence that was setting off alarms everywhere in Lexa's brain.

"Put down the phone, Lexa."

Normally she would only be too happy to, but it was her only buffer between her and whatever Clarke had in mind, which was most certainly not good. Her anxiety peeked for the umpteenth time that day.

Clarke got onto the bed beside her and drew close, propped on her knees. Then she held up a piece of saran wrap from one of their sandwiches. Lexa really didn't like where this was going.

"Um...what do you intend to do with that, Clarke?"

In response, Clarke only grinned and said, "Try to stay calm and don't move too much."

Those were the exact same words she had used before their encounter in the greenhouse. Despite herself, and her apprehensions about material being too thin to negate her ability, Lexa let the phone drop out of her hand and turned to face Clarke more fully, heart pounding.

In one fluid movement, Clarke pulled the saran wrap over her face and-

"Wait!" exclaimed Lexa, right before Clarke added her lips to the mix.

Clarke withdrew, obviously irritated.

Lexa wrung her hands in her lap. "It's just...I'd feel a lot more confident in trying this if I had some reassurance first."

"How do you mean?" asked Clarke as patiently as she could. She had been _so_ close to finally getting that first kiss.

Lexa's eyes darted around the room, it was much cleaner now but perhaps there were still some-

"There!" said Lexa, pointing to the corner of the room. On the floor was a dead bug of some sort, a beetle maybe. She hopped off of the bed, picked it up and placed it in the palm of her hand. She held it up so Clarke could see. "I've tested out the thickness of these gloves before in the same way." She looked to the plastic wrap. Without having to ask, Clarke jumped off the bed and handed it to her. Lexa placed the saran wrap over top the bug and then with the gloveless hand she had been using to operate her phone, she touched the bug through the saran wrap. Nothing happened. She pressed harder against the very thin barrier and still nothing happened. It was such a simple test.* She wished she'd thought of it earlier because then maybe...

Their eyes met at the same time, and without a care for the fact that it had just been touching a dead bug, Clarke took the saran wrap in both hands and held it against Lexa's face. Their lips pressed together softly a second later. Almost immediately Lexa's hands flew out to Clarke's neck, the bug falling, forgotten. If Clarke hadn't had a high collared shirt on, she would've killed her, which would have been ironic considering the previous precaution they had just taken. Clarke smiled briefly at Lexa's inability to follow a simple direction, pleased that she had this effect on Lexa with so little effort.

As for the kiss itself? It was kind of weird feeling and gross tasting; like plastic and dust (for obvious reasons) with a hint of meat. Lexa wasn't sure if this was residue on the saran wrap or straight from Clarke's breath. In a number of ways, this wasn't as satisfying as she would've liked...but it was getting the job done. Unfortunately, the more Clarke got into it, the more she pressed on the saran wrap, and the more she closed off all airways to Lexa's lungs. So it was within fifteen seconds she was pulling away, gasping for air, but thoroughly roused and eager to continue. She got back onto the bed and yanked on her other glove to avoid Clarke's accidental death.

It was frustrating not being able to hold Lexa, so after she gave her enough time to catch her breath, she crawled into Lexa's crossed leg lap, wrapping her heels around her lower back. Then, because Lexa seemed uncertain how to proceed, she took Lexa's hands and placed them on her hips. Protection in place once more, the unusual make out session recommenced. During the short intervals of heated interaction, Lexa's hands gradually got more and more adventurous until they were underneath Clarke's shirt, all but groping her. When she did inadvertently squeeze her there, Clarke moaned, and it was this reverberation between the abused, saliva covered saran wrap - that was sure to tear at any moment - and their lips, that caused some sense to return to Lexa's sex addled mind.

"As much as I...enjoyed that, Clarke," she wheezed, "I think maybe...that's enough for now. The door...doesn't lock and Raven could...be back here at any moment."

Clarke gave her a look that said this was far from over, a look that sent chills coursing throughout Lexa's body, but all Clarke did was nod and ball up the gross piece of plastic and toss it towards the garbage can (which previously hadn't been there). After a few more steadying moments, Clarke climbed out of her lap and Lexa checked her phone to find the mobile app still buffering on the same 'o' face of the woman. In fact, her entire phone seemed to have locked up. There was no way Lexa could stay here on this bed for the rest of the evening without taking a breather...and getting away from certain dangerous thoughts.

Clarke shared the sentiment, and together they left the room and went exploring the complex. Before they left the room, Lexa noticed Clarke subtly snatching up a 'fresh' piece of saran wrap and stashing it in her pocket. She smirked slightly at Clarke's gung ho attitude, pleased with her abilities in that regard, hampered as they were. The number of times someone had complimented her on her kissing prowess were few and far in-between. But possibly that was simply because she _hadn't_ kissed all that many people in her life for fear of accidentally killing them lest they be someone brought back. Yet another way in which the knowledge of others like her had screwed up her love life.

Nobody had expressly told them that they couldn't do this, so as long as they didn't come across someone being tortured or killed, they should be fine. At least, that's what Lexa kept telling herself as they ventured further and further away from their room and closer and closer towards the initial interview room they had entered the building through. While going outside was appealing, she didn't want to risk getting locked out or having to deal with another clueless guard, so instead she directed her feet towards the cloth curtains separating the two areas.

It was like entering into another era and strangely breathtaking, despite, or perhaps _because_ of its unusual gathering of individuals and family alike. The Trikru were considered a notorious gang, but from what she could see, they were simply trying to get by in whatever ways they could, relying on the skills and trades of each other to produce and acquire the necessary items for survival. Both in form and function, it reminded her a bit of those brought together by a natural disaster. Though this was a significantly more progressive set up and self sustaining.

They drew some notice from the people as they walked around the maze like homes but no one asked them what they were doing there or became hostile with them. When they came across the large wooden stove Anya had been talking about, they also came across an older woman eating her supper who would not stop staring at them. At first Lexa thought she was focused on Clarke, but then she realized that in fact the woman was looking at her.

Irritated and a bit unnerved, Lexa suggested they continue on. However, before she had to chance to leave the dining hall of sorts, the woman came right up to her and said, "Follow me."

Though anxious, she still felt compelled to follow the woman's slower gait back into the maze until they arrived at a 'house' that was a little larger than the others. The older woman disappeared through the sheets that allowed for privacy.

Clarke grabbed Lexa's arm before she entered. "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

Lexa shrugged. "Probably about as good of an idea as relying on a piece of plastic to keep from dying."

Clarke flinched, for a second looking sheepish. Then she let go of her arm, defiance written all over her face. "You loved it and you know it."

Lexa didn't disagree, only turned and entered the mysterious woman's home. It was pretty much like all the others they had passed, except that some of the things looked even older, as if they had been accumulated over a longer period of time. Just how long had this woman been a member of the Trikru?

The woman in question was standing in front of a sheet metal wall, staring at something. She cocked her head slightly and gestured for Lexa to come nearer. Somewhat warily she did so. The woman moved aside, revealing a framed picture. She held up a candle, the better for Lexa to see. There were three of them in the photograph. One appeared to be a younger version of the woman beside her. The other was a tall, slender man with tattoo's running down either arm. And the last person was...

"My mother?" she gasped, reaching out lightning fast to pull the frame off the wall. With a shaking hand, she traced her mothers face, so similar to her own. No wonder the woman had kept staring. Lexa's head shot up to lock eyes with the woman. "You know her? Nyanna?"

"I did," the woman affirmed solemnly. "But she's gone now."

Lexa swallowed hard. She had been so sure that this thing she felt in her chest signified her mothers continued existence. But now it sounded like she had been wrong all along. Sensing her extreme distress, Clarke was beside her in an instant, hand reassuring on her shoulder.

"What happened?" she asked for Lexa, when Lexa couldn't speak, couldn't take her eyes off of the photo.

The woman seemed confused by the question. "She left."

"Wait," said Clarke, "so you're saying that Nyanna _isn't_ dead?"

"As to that, I have no idea," replied the woman infuriatingly. "She was alive the last time I saw her."

"And how long ago was that?"

The woman thought for a time, staring at Lexa all the while. "Around two decades ago I'd say."

Just when hope had begun to blossom in her heart once more, this woman crushed it under her heel. Twenty years ago might as well be forever. Even the trails the PI had followed had been more recent than that.

Frustrated, Lexa glared at the woman and half yelled, "Well, what good is that to me?!" She thrust out the drawing angrily, in her face. "What was the point in showing me this?!"

The woman seemed unmoved. "There's no need to raise your voice, Lexa."

Lexa blinked a few times, slightly opened mouthed. Her clenched fist around the frame fell to the side, arms boneless. "How did you-"

"I told you, I knew your mother." The woman gestured towards the living area which had some overturned wooden crates with backs on them. Makeshift chairs Clarke supposed. Both of them took a seat, which were none too comfortable and probably explained why the woman opted to remain standing instead, old as she may be.

Nearly thirty years ago, Nyanna Woods kissed her newborn daughter and husband goodbye. Thoroughly exhausted, she nonetheless dressed herself in the middle of the night and left the small Arkadia hospital, never to be seen again. Living in a small town meant that there were few places to hide from one's past. So in an effort to keep to her convictions, to prevent Gustus or the police from finding her and bringing her back home, Nyanna instead got on a bus and took it as far as it would go. From there she commenced her travels by foot, and though she was weary to the bone and sick at heart, she kept on going, destination unknown. Indeed, she had thought of where she might go for months before giving birth, but had been unable to ascertain a clear path. If she stayed with someone she knew, no matter how far away, eventually Gustus would find her. He was one of the most determined men she had ever met, and one of the most loyal. She knew her betrayal cut him deeper than any words ever could. So even if they were ever reunited, in this life, or the next, it would never be the same between them.

After wandering around for some days, in what could only be referred to as an emotionless robotic state, Nyanna succumbed to her physical and mental exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep, one she almost prayed she would not wake up from. To her consternation and utter woe, she did, and it was to find herself surrounded by three curious individuals. Ages were hard to come by as they were considerably dirtier than herself, as if they hadn't seen water in years. Their names were Vittoria, Malthus and Desmond. They were siblings and they were homeless, though they did not think of themselves in such terms. They called themselves the gonakru, a word derived from a made up verbal language they had crafted as teenagers.

Nyanna's new companions took her in and fed her, all the while asking for nothing in return, not even her name. The wandering trio had secured an abandoned cabin in the forest some years back and they foraged and hunted for their sustenance like their ancestors of old. It was months later, as they were collecting firewood together, that they came across the skeletal remains of a young human child. Unable to repress the pent up emotion any longer, Nyanna revealed her sordid past to them, leaving nothing out, not even her most intimate, and dangerous secret. This they kept close to their hearts, as any good friends would do, though Nyanna knew she had hardly done anything to earn their trust. She cried bitterly for four days, Vittoria comforting whenever she could.

With time, the depression and heartache passed and Nyanna decided she wanted to live again. The siblings taught her everything they knew, what had been passed down to them from their own late mother. Nyanna learned to fish and hunt and start a fire with no tools. She learned to be strong. To survive. For a time they flourished together, Nyanna imparting her own more modern knowledge and skills, teaching them to read and write.

As the times changed however, so too did the landscape, and they were forced off their land by construction crews and bulldozers. Not for the first time, the trio headed to greener pastures, or at least attempted to. They found themselves in a city, in Polis to be precise, and though it was vastly different than what they were accustomed to, they decided they quite liked it and wanted to stay. Before long they had befriended many other like minded (homeless) people and their gonakru grew.

Requiring a large space for shelter, they scoured the city until an old warehouse was located. After confirming that the business had shut down many years ago, with no interest in future renters, they moved in. No one really cared since it kept them off the streets and out of offending eyesight.

In memory of their previous home, they renamed themselves the Trikru. Occasionally scuffles broke out amongst them, usually over trivial matters, such as how much space should be allotted to each person. They were able to diffuse the vast majority of violent outbreaks. When they couldn't reach an accord, they banished them from their land. One such person took such offense to this injustice that they went out and formed their own group, that they could be the leader of.

This group was called Azgeda, and as soon as their numbers were substantial, they began encroaching on Trikru land. Despite the bad blood between them, the siblings attempted to share the space. But Azgeda wanted it all for themselves.

The gang wars started soon after. They were bloody and horrible. The police had to intervene on more than one occasion, which made them even more bloody and horrible. This, combined with the news of Gustus' death, led Nyanna to part ways with the Trikru. As much as she'd grown to care for these people over the past nine years, to think of them as her own family, she could not handle being around that sort of constant violence, not with what she could do.

Having lost her brothers to this senseless war, Vittoria understood all too well why Nyanna had to leave. And so Nyanna returned to Arkadia to see her estranged husband off to the next world.

Here, Lexa broke Vittoria's narration, by standing abruptly. She had been growing increasingly agitated during the telling of her mothers past, but this last bit of information was too much to bear.

"She was there?!" choked out Lexa angrily. "She was there and didn't say anything to me?! Didn't try to comfort me in any way?! Couldn't she see how broken I was?! How much I needed her?!" She kicked over the crate she had been sitting on, breaking it. Clarke jumped in her seat, but Vittoria didn't react. "Why didn't she come to me?! Why?!"

"Only she can answer that," replied Vittoria. "Perhaps one day-"

"Fuck that!" shouted Lexa, startling Clarke some more. She had never heard Lexa use this kind of harsh language before. "And fuck her!" She dropped the frame on the ground, cracking it diagonally across the glass. "I'm done!"

Lexa silently cried herself to sleep that night, wondering why her mother had continuously abandoned her, wondering why she didn't care. It was ridiculous that a person she had no memories of could upset her so completely. Emboldened by their kisses, and tired of being helpless to comfort her, Clarke wrapped Lexa up in a blanket and held her from behind. They fell asleep together for the first time since their reunion, and though their positions changed a number of times, miraculously Clarke awoke in the morning.

Her face was just an inch or two away from Lexa's, and though she had morning breath, the temptation to kiss her was almost overwhelming. However, since Clarke didn't want to scare the shit out of Lexa by placing plastic wrap over her face while she was still asleep, she refrained from acting out the impulse. Instead, she got up and used the washroom, and brushed her teeth. Then, since Lexa was still asleep, and Raven had yet to make an appearance, she got back in bed and started messing around on her new phone. It had only been days since she had last used one, and yet it felt like forever.

One of the first news articles she came across made the content smile fall away. It was as she was staring at this story in horror that Lexa woke up. She looked at Clarke blearily, then scrambled upright. Lexa placed a hand on her knee.

"Clarke?"

Clarke looked up and painfully swallowed through the intense dryness in her throat. "Finn's dead."

* * *

 **16 chapters for a weird kiss, woo hoo! :p Actually, it was supposed to be in chapter 7, but there was no organic way to throw in saran wrap into the scene so that didn't happen there. I thought of using the plastic flower liner stuff for bouquets but it wouldn't have been all that yielding/I didn't think Lexa would have any in the greenhouse.**

 ***And just so you know, I'm shading myself here. That simple test didn't occur to me until very recently. Or maybe I HAD thought of it in the past but forgot about it. And really, considering Lexa shared her ability with Clarke as a curious child, you'd think they would've experimented with its limits way back when. But I'm gonna say maybe the guinea pig incident traumatized them so much that Lexa kind of just stopped using it from that point on.**

 **We're getting into the nitty gritty of this story. I'm estimating it'll be over within the next five chapters. So just a heads up.**


	17. Chapter 17

"What do you mean, 'he's dead'?" said Lexa.

Clarke licked her trembling lips. "He committed suicide last night."

"How?" said Lexa, rather insensitively. She hadn't meant for it to come out like that. It was more that her sleepy brain was fumbling to comprehend a number of things. She was very surprised to note that it was much later than she usually arose. Lexa couldn't even remember the last time her internal alarm clock didn't wake her up at precisely six thirty-three. Then again, it was the first time (since they were children) that she had slept with Clarke (and she couldn't even believe she had been so selfish as to allow that, being emotionally wrecked was no excuse for endangering Clarke's life). In more than one way, this morning was already deviating from the norm.

Clarke held the phone out to her and Lexa took it, eyes scanning quickly through the news article. It was written by the Polis police forces go to news correspondent, Nia. She always gave a thorough and clinical recitation of the facts, or at least whatever the police were touting as the facts. Her writing came across as a bit robotic to Lexa, and lacking in personality, though that was probably the point. They wouldn't want a jokester like Jasper Jordan from the entertainment section, or even worse, John Murphy, the extremely jaded and cynical political and world news journalist to write for them. He would make you want to blow your own brains out while reading about how corrupt and horrific humanity had become.

 _Keep it together, Lexa. Focus._

According to the online article uploaded just over an hour ago, Finn Collins, age twenty-seven, had slit his wrists sometime after three in the morning. He had reportedly used the edge of the metal frame of his bed to do it. Before he expired, he left a message in blood, proclaiming his guilt. The logical conclusion was that it was in relation to Clarke's murder.

"Forgive me for what I've done," muttered Lexa. She looked up at Clarke, who was staring blankly at the wall. Yes, their relationship didn't end on the greatest of terms, in fact, it was quite the opposite, but that didn't mean Clarke didn't care about the fact that he was gone. And feel consumed with guilt.

"I'm sorry," said Lexa, placing a hand on her knee again, giving it a squeeze.

"This is all my fault," said Clarke, still staring off into the distance. "He's dead because of me."

"Who's dead now?" asked Raven, finally making a reappearance. Of course, she came right then. She always did have impeccable timing. Lexa wouldn't be shocked to discover that Raven had planted a listening device on her ages ago.

Selfishly, Raven was glad they were dealing with another crisis. She had been dreading coming back here and getting interrogated or teased by her lengthy absence.

"Finn Collins," replied Lexa, absently, most of her attention focused on Clarke, ready to console her at a moments notice.

"Huh," was the only response she got from Raven.

That was enough of a non-reaction to get Lexa to scowl in her direction.

Raven, disregarding the mean look, sat down at her computer and started doing...something.

"You can't blame yourself, Clarke," said Lexa, ignoring Raven's rudeness and insensitivity. Next to her, Lexa was a saint. Not that she would ever say something like that about herself, she was far too humble.

"Yes, I can," retorted Clarke numbly. She felt sick to her stomach. "He was in that situation because of me, because I couldn't stop myself from finding out what Bellamy's deal was. If I had just acted sooner, this wouldn't have happened. If I had just had a little more courage, Bellamy wouldn't have been able to kill him."

That took Lexa off guard. "You can't know that-"

"Seriously, Lexa?" said Raven, from across the room. "Blake obviously did this. Why would a guy who was adamant about being innocent, go and off himself? _And_ leave a guilty confession?"

"I don't know," admitted Lexa. "Maybe he was being hounded by police officers to confess night and day and after awhile he started to believe he was actually guilty, so he took his own life. He had a troubled mental past and occasionally lost periods of time. Certainty was something he never really had. If he...loved Clarke enough, I could see him doing something like this."

"Or maybe Blake paid him a visit last night," said Raven, eyes still on her computer screen, "and slit his wrists in his sleep. The case against Collins wasn't exactly air tight. This level of apparent guilt though...that would've been the final nail in the coffin." She glanced up, realizing what she just said. Lexa was scowling at her again but Clarke seemed to be in her own world. "So to speak."

There was a beat and then Raven gestured to her screen, "See, it even says here that Collins was scheduled to be transported to more secure digs today. This would've been Blake's last chance to get to him. Or at least, have easy access at the 100th precinct."

Lexa still wasn't entirely convinced, even if both of them were. Though she hated doing this, if it was necessary, she would. "There's one way to be sure-"

"We're _not_ going down to the morgue to ask him," snapped Clarke, startling Lexa a bit. She had been like stone a moment ago. "It's an obvious trap."

"How so?" queried Lexa. They both looked at her like she was an idiot. "Bellamy doesn't know-"

"Of _course_ he does," said Clarke with some heat. She got off the bed and began pacing around. "I told you, he's smart. Once he followed Raven to Grounders, he would've either checked your website to get your name or accessed the deed in the public archives. Then he would've looked you up online, found the articles about the forever flowers and formed a hypothesis. Once he saw me in the flesh, walking around no less, his bizarre theory would've been verified. So now he's set up this bait to see if we're dumb enough to take it."

"Damn, Clarke," said Raven, appreciatively, "remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Okay..." said Lexa patiently. She was getting used to being cut off by the pair of them. Not for the first time she was reminded of their similar personality traits. Both could be needlessly reckless. Granted, Clarke generally had more tact. "Following that train of thought...then maybe he gave Finn a message to give to us?"

That gave them both pause, they both literally stopped in their tracks.

"It makes sense. He doesn't have any other means to contact us. He doesn't have any of our numbers. And he wouldn't want to leave a trail behind him sending an email, anonymous or otherwise. This would be it."

Clarke turned to face her, features full of anxiety. "We still can't risk going down there. There might be a message...or he might just be lying in wait."

"I understand that you're afraid, and you have every right to be, I am too...but sooner or later we're going to have to make a move against him," said Lexa. "We've been wondering how to get access to him...well maybe _this_ is the way. He'll think he's in control here, since he set this up, but then we turn it on its head and trap him instead."

Clarke was shaking her head adamantly. "Like I keep saying, he's really smart. He'd be expecting something like that. The only way to safely deal with him is to catch him unawares. On our own terms."

"Well," said Raven, redirecting their attention, "Lexa just gave me an idea." She grinned. "We get to him through email. There's this girl I sometimes talk to and she's got this prototype program in the works. It codes emails with a subliminal message. Makes the reader do whatever you want them to do. It'll be pricey, and she'll want to be paid in cash, but Clarke can handle that I'm sure."

They stared at her like she had gone mad. Which is precisely what she was going for. Making people question her sanity never failed to delight Raven Reyes.

"It's brilliant," she continued, getting genuinely excited. Cutting edge (and illegal) technology always gave her a lady boner. "He won't be able to resist opening an email from Clarke, and then he'll be forced to go wherever we tell him to and tie himself up so we can collect, or kill him easily."

"Okay..." said Lexa again, highly skeptical and not entirely sure Raven wasn't just messing with them right now, "if something like that was even possible-"

"It is," assured Raven. "I'm only pissed I didn't think of it myself."

"...why wouldn't we just tell him to kill himself then?"

"Because," said Raven in her superior, know-it-all tone, "the brain's hardwired against that sort of thing. Even a really good hypnotist would have difficulty getting someone to off themselves. They'd have to be emotionally compromised or suicidal already for it to work." She looked to Clarke, who had yet to give any input. "What do you say? Does that sound good to you?"

The first thing out of her mouth was not quite what either of them had been expecting. "How did you know I have a ton of cash on me?"

Raven laughed. "Come on, Clarke, you've been keeping that backpack in your sights like its your baby. Anyone could've put two and two together."

This notion somewhat lessened her deductive reasoning prowess, but neither of them commented on that.

"If I agreed to trying something like that, which I'm not saying I am, how much are we talking?"

"That'll depend on how complicated the instructions are," replied Raven. "If we want my girl to code a location, it'll be less than if we want Blake to turn himself in. That sort of command would require more elbow grease. Anyway you look at it, it's gonna be at least ten grand."

"And if this doesn't work?"

"Then we do things your way, Clarke," said Raven. "We get the SUX and we take him out that way."

Clarke ran her fingers up her face and through her hair. She let out a rush of air, then glanced at Lexa, who just shrugged. What did they have to lose (besides her money)?

"Okay."

* * *

Raven's 'friend' had been weird, to say the least, almost as eccentric and egotistical as herself. For all that, she was quite eager to sell them her services...for ten easy payments of two grand a piece. Backpack substantially lightened, Clarke tried not to grumble to herself too much. If this actually worked, as both Raven and Alie were sure it would, no one would need to be put in harms way. Bellamy would simply go to the precinct and confess to being The Phantom Killer, detailing everyone he had ever killed, and that would be that. Rather anticlimactic way to end this unfortunate chapter of her life, but only too welcome. She was for all intents and purposes, pooped.

Currently they were stationed on a rooftop precisely zero point thirty-one miles away from the 100th precinct. There was a straight line of sight from their perch, and with binoculars, they could clearly make out everyone coming and going along the crowded mid-day streets of downtown Polis. A delightful flash mob, dancing to the beat of Funkytown by Lipps, Inc. periodically came in and out of view from their current position in the park. To Lexa's amusement, Clarke kept mouthing the repetitive lyrics to the song, and after awhile, she joined her. There was little else to keep them occupied.

While Raven did own a drone, which she could activate remotely and bring here from her house, using something like that around a police station wasn't the smartest, or most inconspicuous thing ever. Which was precisely what they were going for.

As boredom settled in, Clarke found herself prying into Raven's previous whereabouts. "So," she said from her brand new gray camp chair, "did you have a nice _discussion_ with Anya?"

Raven stiffened in her own seat, then relaxed and cocked her head in Clarke's direction. "You sure bet I did," she answered, with a wink. "We had a _lot_ to catch up on." She looked towards Lexa, who was focused on their surroundings through her binoculars. "Something you two are long overdue for." Raven grinned. "Tell me, Clarke, why exactly are you keeping a piece of saran wrap in your pocket? Do you like to lick spare crumbs for snacks? Or do you like to lick _Lexa_? You know they have these things called dental dams, right? Being a doctor and all, I would've thought you'd know that."

Teasing Raven backfired almost immediately, and now Clarke was the flustered one, willing herself not to blush, but unable to stop the reaction. Lexa wasn't much better off herself. Being the centre of attention in this manner was highly uncomfortable. Raven chuckled at their reactions. "You can keep the household items off the menu soon enough. I promise I'll throw something together once this is all over with." She winked at them again. "Can't have my partners in crime self imploding from lust overload."

Conversation at a screeching halt, they resumed their watch over the precinct. Thankfully they had eaten prior to this stake-out, so none of them were particularly hungry. However, they were exposed to the sun currently, and as such, were keeping hydrated. After a few hours of nothing happening, Lexa decided to get up and go find a washroom.

Of course, this was the precise moment that something _did_ happen.

"What the hell?" muttered Clarke, leaning forward in her seat. Her binoculars were quite firmly in place and might possibly leave ring marks.

"What is it?" asked Lexa, bladder forgotten. "What do you see?"

"Fuck," said Raven, apparently also catching sight of the same thing.

"What's going on?" she tried again to no avail.

Annoyed that no one was paying attention to her, she scooped up her own set of binoculars and gazed down at the street. Within seconds she found the source of commotion. People were moving out of the way of a somewhat disheveled looking person, who may or may not have soiled themselves. And that person was...

"Costia!" exclaimed Lexa. "What is _she_ doing here?"

"Is she...headed towards the police station?" groaned Clarke.

"Well, something obviously happened to her," said Raven, getting to her feet with a slight grunt. "You two better go intercept. I'll keep watch from up here."

"But..." said Clarke, putting down her binoculars, "what if this is some sort of ploy to draw us out?"

Lexa gave her a somewhat nasty look and then turned on her heel and charged down the stairs. Out of the three of them, she was the most in shape and had a solid lead over Clarke. Though every stride was making her abundantly aware of her increasingly urgent issue. If whatever this was, wasn't resolved within the next ten minutes, she would probably look an awful lot like Costia herself.

Once the two of them had departed, Raven called Anya up and said, "Looks like Operation Mongoose is a no go. Are your people in place?"

"Yes. They're ready to take the target out if he makes an appearance. Your people will be safe. You have my word."

"Thanks," answered Raven. "For that...and everything."

There was a slight delay this time. "Of course."

By the time Lexa dashed down the building, weaved her way through the crowds of people and caught up to Costia, she was within shouting distance of the front door. Instead of doing that however, she simply touched her shoulder. "Costia, what-"

Though Costia's head turned and they made eye contact, there was a non-reaction and she just kept on walking.

"Costia?" she muttered, with a frown.

Clarke was there, severely winded.

"She just ignored me," said Lexa. "That's never happened before."

Abruptly, they looked at each other. "You don't think-"

"What else could it be?" groaned Clarke again. "Go reel her in before she says something that'll cause a bigger stink than she already has."

Lexa tried but still couldn't get Costia to even acknowledge her presence. They didn't have much time before Costia entered the precinct. With a sigh, Clarke jogged over there, dragged Costia to the side of the building, under the cover of shadows and a dumpster. Completely unresponsive, she still tried to get away, so Clarke was forced to knock her out, something she was terribly conflicted about. Predictably, Lexa scolded her and then called Raven up to determine their next course of action. Since they couldn't exactly go dragging her along the streets in broad daylight, they opted to stay put until she woke up.

"She's wearing the same dress she was wearing the last time we saw her," observed Clarke.

Lexa hadn't exactly been with it at that point in time, so she'd have to take Clarke's word for it. She knelt down and checked Costia's skull, where Clarke had hit her. There was a bit of blood.

Lexa glared at Clarke, holding up the evidence on her fingertips. "Did you have to be so violent?"

"What else was I _supposed_ to do?" defended Clarke. She gestured to Costia. "Let her go in there like _that_ and confess to some...shoplifting crimes from her teenage years?"

Lexa stood up. "How do you think this happened?"

"No clue," said Clarke, keeping watch. She fingered the handle of the gun in her waistband. "But if he tries anything right now, I'll blow his brains out."

They had kept Raven on the line, on speakerphone. "Everything okay up there?"

"Yeah," said Raven. "Haven't seen anything out of the ordinary...since Cos that is. How are you guys holding up? I can't see you anymore."

"We're fine," replied Lexa, even as she shifted in place. She _really_ had to go now.

Clarke couldn't help but notice her subtle fidgeting. "Just go to the washroom, Lexa. There's a Starbucks right across the street." She pulled her gun out, holding it close to her side. "I'll be fine for a few minutes."

 _As long as no cops come this way, that is. We_ are _right beside the station._

Splitting up like this was the exact way everyone ended up dying in horror films...yet they inevitably did it every time.

"We should switch phones first though."

That way Raven could stay on the line with Clarke and let her know if anything was up.

Even after the phones were exchanged, Lexa hesitated for another six seconds and then all but sprinted towards sweet relief.

Many tense moments passed, in which an older couple walked past their position, staring. Clarke hid the gun behind her back, smiled, and said, "Girl can't hold her liquor. Don't worry though, she'll bounce back soon enough."

They gave them both disapproving glares, no doubt, disappointed in the youth of today. It wasn't even three in the afternoon, for Pete's Sake. On a Wednesday no less.

On edge, it seemed like Lexa was taking forever in there. She didn't have a weapon. What if Bellamy had gotten to her? What if-

"Shit," muttered Clarke, glancing down at Costia.

I hate this, she thought. I hate this I hate this I hate this.

In order to call and reach Lexa, she'd have to take Raven off the line, which was kind of a dick move, but she couldn't help it, she needed some reassurance that the love of her life wasn't taking her last breath in a fucking Starbucks washroom of all places.

"Pick up, pick up," she intoned urgently. When there was no response, Clarke looked at Costia, shoved her gun back in her pants, and said, "Fuck it, she's not going anywhere."

She turned to leave and before she got more than a couple of paces, bumped into-

"Lexa!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms out. Lexa dropped down to avoid recreating the nightmare scenario from her dream.

It took Clarke a second to understand why she had done that. She shook it off, holding her hand out. Both righted again, Lexa said, "Is something wrong? You called and-"

Clarke whipped out the piece of saran wrap and kissed Lexa soundly. Stunned, she nevertheless fell into the kiss for several moments, or as long as she could handle being without oxygen.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily, and it was this scene that Costia awoke to. She blinked up in confusion, holding the side of her head. "Lexa?" she said hoarsely, as if she hadn't had anything to drink in days. "Claire?"

Lexa looked at Clarke, who just shrugged, stashing the precious kiss protector away.

"What happened? What am I doing here?"

"We were kind of hoping you could tell _us_ that," said Clarke, a bit gruffly, crossing her arms. You would be pissed too if you had just blown twenty grand and didn't even get anything out of it, besides a heart attack or two, and not in the good way.

"Are you okay?" asked Lexa gently, kneeling down beside her again. Clarke was annoyed when Lexa placed her hand on Costia's leg. "Do you need to go to the hospital? You look like you've been through quite the ordeal."

"Yeah, my head's killing me," lamented Costia, to which Lexa ground her teeth.

"Before that," said Clarke dismissively. "What happened before that. What was the last thing you remember?" When Costia took more than a second, Clarke knelt down in front of her and demanded, "How the fuck did you come to be here?!"

* * *

 **Ah, poor Cos. Girls unlucky. I guess they all are, really.**


	18. Chapter 18

How the fuck she came to be there was as follows:

Having made her self proclaimed world famous chicken noodle soup for her dangerously ailing employer, Costia packed it up securely and headed back to Grounders slightly later than anticipated, that is to say a quarter after noon. As had been the expectation as of late, no one answered the inner apartment door. Which was very rude as far as Costia was concerned, and if Lexa had been feeling up to it, she was sure she wouldn't have been kept waiting like this. There was a creak inside, so she knew they were still in there. Why they pretended to be somewhere else was beyond her comprehension. Had they never learned any manners? So she knocked and knocked, as was her wont, until the door finally opened.

But it was not Claire or Raven who answered this time. It was a man she had never before set eyes on, but who terrified her more than that animate doll from that disturbing horror series. And really, who thought _that_ was a good idea? The number of traumatized children and adults alike must be well into the-

Clarke cleared her throat and Costia got back on track.

In her surprise, she dropped the elixir of life, and the demon straight from hell itself, grabbed her and pulled her into the apartment with him. After kicking for a bit, she attempted to scream, so he injected her with something that had a delightful floating sensation take hold. Blissfully subdued, he directed her to sit in a kitchen chair, whereby he then proceeded to apply substantial amounts of duct tape to her mouth, wrists, torso, and legs.

The man put her phone on the kitchen table before her, apparently with no other purpose than to taunt her, though at the time, she was hardly in a caring mood. He continued to root around Lexa's apartment, for what, she couldn't say, and then he left her there all alone. She held her bladder for as long as she could. To her everlasting shame, she expelled its contents that evening. It was at that point that she gave up trying to tip herself or otherwise get out of her restraints.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Costia couldn't be sure, but she thought her kidnapper had come back there quite late at night and gone into Lexa's bedroom...to presumably sleep. When she next saw him, he was standing near her, holding his phone in his hand, staring at the screen in deep thought. His finger hovered over something there for some time, before retracting.

Then he looked over at her and brought the screen before her eyes. And that was the last thing she remembered before waking up here...beside this dumpster.

During this chilling narration, neither Clarke nor Lexa had heard their phones going off. The slight lull in the tale allowed Lexa to answer the call.

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop!" blurted a disgruntled Raven. "I haven't heard anything from you guys for over five minutes! If you don't respond _right_ now, I'm coming down there and whooping your asses-"

"We're fine, Raven," she interjected. Glancing at Costia. "Well, sort of. I'm sorry. Things have been a bit hectic down here."

"What?! What happened!? Goddammit Lexa-"

"Everything's fine," she reiterated. "We're just hearing what Costia has to say about what happened to her."

"Oh...well, keep me on the fucking line this time." Raven hung up, smirking at her acting skills. It was fun being belligerent. Though, it hadn't all been an act. Even though Anya's people were keeping watch on the proceedings where she couldn't, it was still unnerving to not have your own control of a situation that you unwittingly orchestrated.

"This is very important," said Clarke, kneeling down again so that they were eye level. "Did this man say anything to you? Anything at all?"

Costia just stared at her blankly for a moment. "No. He never said a word. Do you think he was a mute?" She winced as her skull throbbed again. "Are we done here?" she all but whispered. "Can I get something to drink? Or, like, a trip to the hospital?"

Lexa felt like an absolute moron for not taking that into account and Clarke was starting to feel guilty about her actions too. She was supposed to be the one who made people better, not knock them the fuck out. But her nerves were fried and she wasn't thinking straight. Bellamy was messing with them, she was sure of it. Just waiting to get them alone. Why else would he let Costia go, risking his own exposure in the process?

Nervously she glanced around the dumpster, expecting him to jump out and say, 'Gotcha,' before stabbing her in the chest multiple times.

Thankfully that gruesome end didn't happen. Instead, Lexa helped Costia to her feet, taking her coat off and draping it around her shoulders, to help cover up the dried urine stains. When Costia swayed on her feet, Lexa slipped an arm around her waist to hold her upright. Though Costia had just been through a terrible ordeal, she felt like she was on cloud nine. This was what she had always hoped for. Lexa touching her. Lexa taking care of her. Caring _for_ her.

For once Clarke wasn't jealous of their intimacy. This was mostly because she was too busy keeping watch for a homicidal maniac, but that was neither here nor there.

Regrouped, and partially re-hydrated again, it became apparent that Costia would not be able to make the walk to Polis General, even aided by Lexa. So, backpack in hand again, Clarke hailed a taxi, and they made their way there. Clarke sat up front as she couldn't afford to be squashed in the back with the three of them. Every few seconds, she glanced in the rear view mirror, annoyed at how Costia could rest her head against Lexa's, and vice versa. They even seemed to be holding hands. She had to admit, they would make a nice looking couple. Maybe this was stupid of her to try and keep holding on to something that was impossible to attain? They could never be together the way she wanted to be together. Who were they kidding?

* * *

They arrived at the hospital and Clarke paid their driver with a crisp hundred dollar bill. He stared at her in astonishment when she told him to keep the change. She had already blown twenty grand, what was another eighty bucks?

Pushing aside her personal feelings in the matter, Clarke went into doctor mood for the first time in what felt like forever. It was a nice change from paralyzing fear. She told Lexa what to say in clinical terms to get the admittance nurse to let Costia into the ER straight away. After a brief examination to access her head wound and other injuries, they gave her a bed, installing an IV soon after, to further restore liquids. Yet another casualty due to her inability to act sooner. If anyone else died because of her reticence, she would never forgive herself.

Satisfied that she was getting proper care, and with Lexa on hand, Clarke silently excused herself, to go off and steal the SUX, like she had originally planned. Raven caught up to her before she had gotten back into the waiting room.

"You don't think you can do this alone, do you?"

"I have to," said Clarke, determined. "People keep getting hurt because of me."

"Macho attitudes work best when you can confidentially strut your stuff," replied Raven nonchalantly. "Which you can't. Not here." Raven grinned, "I, however, can."

Clarke shook her head, adamant. "You won't have any idea where it is."

They were in the waiting room now, and a doctor and nurse passed by, halting their conversation. Raven pulled Clarke into one of the semi alcoved seats that still managed to face the majority of the area.

"That's true," admitted Raven, "but you still need a wing woman. I'll get the card and hand it over to you and then distract them until you return. That way they'll never know anything's amiss." She paused for a moment. "Just a thought, but don't you think it'd be easier to just snatch it up from surgery itself?"

"No, I don't," said Clarke. "People go in and out of those rooms all the time, even when no one's being operated on, to clean and bring in newly sterilized tools. The storage room gets visited a lot less frequently...though it is harder to get to."

Raven nodded. "Storage room it is." She scanned the admittance area discreetly. "So, which of these poor schlubs should I filch the card from?"

Clarke also twisted in her seat to survey the area. "Hmm, it needs to be someone with unrestricted access. One of the doctors would be best." She noticed one of them talking to a family, and shivered slightly. "Dr. Tsing is probably a sociopath. I'd steer clear of her." Her eyes alighted on another doctor who had just entered the room. "But Dr. Sinclair's a pretty nice guy. Wicked smart too. He has to be since he's a neurosurgeon. If you can get him going on about something technical, he'll talk for ages-"

"Okay, but what does he like?" interrupted Raven. Clarke raised an eyebrow, confused. "Is he into girls or not?"

Clarke looked at her blankly for a few seconds. "I really don't know. It's not something that's ever come up. We haven't really interacted much outside of the hospital. I _think_ he was married once upon a time and maybe had a kid, but that doesn't really mean anything so-"

Raven stood up. "Guess we'll find out soon enough." It had been a long time since she attempted to seduce someone with her ample amounts of charm. So this interaction would be interesting.

As Raven went over to chat up Dr. Sinclair, Lexa came into the waiting room. She walked over to Clarke and sat down. "I was wondering where you two had gotten off to. Why didn't you say som-" Lexa stared at Raven, who was placing her hand on Dr. Sinclair's forearm, laughing at something he apparently said. "What is Raven do-" She whipped her head towards Clarke. "You're doing this _now_?"

"We can't keep wasting time," defended Clarke. "We have to stop him as soon as possible."

"I know that, Clarke," said Lexa. "I'm just surprised you didn't ask me to grab the card. I thought that's what we had agreed on."

"Actually, I said _I_ was going to do it," said Clarke, checking on Raven's progress. Her hand was inching closer and closer to the badge on his chest. Once she had it, Clarke would need to step into trouble. She mentally prepared herself for the act.

"That never would have worked," said Lexa, also keeping on eye on them.

As soon as Raven had it, Clarke stood up. Lexa grabbed her wrist. "What do you think you're doing? We've been through this before. You can't do this without being recognized."

"You won't know where you're going or what you're looking for-"

"I'll figure it out," said Lexa. "It can't be that hard."

"But-"

In a steely tone, "Sit back down, Clarke."

On top of that no nonsense voice, Lexa was giving her the ominous raccoon look, so she felt compelled to obey. And it was a good thing too, because not eight seconds later, or about the same time Lexa stood up and took a few steps away from Clarke, her mother appeared through a side door.

Dr. Abby Griffin walked into the room and over to the admittance desk, to apparently ask about a patient. As Abby waited for the woman to check her files, her eyes wandered and landed on them. Lexa froze in place, pulse shooting into the stratosphere.

Focused on Raven, who was wiggling the card insistently behind her back, just waiting for someone to take it, Clarke didn't notice this. Though she did register that Lexa had stopped moving for some inexplicable reason. She was about to ask what was wrong when she heard her mother's voice. Shit, what was she doing here?

Abby did a double take, then placed her glasses attached by a gold chain onto her nose. "Lexa? Lexa Woods? Is that you?"

How did everyone keep recognizing her? If her brain had been functioning closer to optimal power, she would have remembered that Nyanna had been The Griffin's neighbours for almost a year before she took off. As it was, this fact eluded her until Abby made a remark about her features.

Abby moved closer to her...and her supposed to be dead daughter. Clarke had grabbed a magazine and held it as close to her face as possible, without that looking like that was the intent.

Dr. Griffin smiled and said, "It _is_ you. I'd recognize those green eyes anywhere. I can't believe how much you look like your mother." Nyanna's disappearance had been quite the scandal in the small town of Arkadia, not something her daughter would want to be reminded of. Realizing what she said, she added, "Well, you're all grown up now. What a fine young lady you've become."

Still tongue tied, Lexa only nodded. She cleared her throat, willing herself to calm down. She hadn't spotted Clarke yet. Everything was fine. "Mrs. G," she offered weakly, with a faint smile. "It's been a long time."

Abby returned the smile, the weary lines of age and sorrow making themselves more pronounced. "What did I say about that, Lexa?" she asked in a semi-chastising tone.

Lexa thought hard for a moment. "It's good to see you, _Abby._ "

Under different circumstances, she actually would have meant that. Abby had unofficially taken over the role of mother, and was present in her memories for about as far back as Clarke was. More than one relationship was lost the night Jake died.

"That's better."

Abby looked like she was about to hug her, and though Lexa would have liked that, she was afraid the change in position would alert her to Clarke's presence. As it was, Lexa was just managing to block her from view. So though it pained her, she held out her hand informally to the woman who cared for her almost as much as her own father.

It was obvious that Abby was hurt too by the formal exchange, but she put on a brave face, shifted her clipboard to the other arm, and took her hand.

"So, what brings you to my hospital, Lexa Woods?" asked Abby. "I hope it's nothing serious."

"A friend of mine had an accident," said Lexa, giving her the same story they'd given the ER doctor. "She somehow managed to lock herself in another friends basement for the weekend without her phone on hand. Then she fell down the stairs and hit her head when she tried to break free. We just rescued her an hour or so ago. She needs some fluids, and might have a concussion, but otherwise, she'll be fine."

"My goodness," said Abby, both eyebrows raised. "What an unfortunate girl." Abby didn't find the story strange in the least. She had heard considerably more far fetched things in her time here. Still, she knew Lexa wasn't telling her the full truth. She had learned and memorized her lying face a long time ago.

Lexa licked her lips and prayed that was the end of it.

"Maybe I should have a look at her, just to make sure-"

"I assure you that's not necessary, Dr...Abby. Your fine staff has got it well under control."

There was an awkward silence following this outburst. Lexa knew if Abby took a good look at Costia, she would see things the others hadn't, which would lead to more unwanted questions.

Lexa nearly had a heart attack when she saw Clarke flit passed her vision and over to where Raven was still talking to Sinclair. Or rather, he was talking _at_ her, animatedly going on about something or other. Despite her present situation, she couldn't help but watch as Raven handed off the key to Clarke, who waited a few beats before disappearing behind the swishing doors.

Abby had noticed her distraction and was about to turn around when Lexa resumed their conversation, saying the first thing that came to mind. Which as it turned out was about the shittiest thing she could have brought up.

"I heard about Clarke. What happened to her." She touched Abby's shoulder. "I'm so so sorry."

 _That I'm a massive asshole_. What kind of person consoled their mother figure over the loss of their biological daughter when they knew very well that said daughter was still alive and well? _And_ was currently stealing some of their stuff?

Abby's entire demeanour changed at the mention of Clarke. The light went out of her eyes. It was an effort for her not to break down on the spot. Her eyes found the ground as she murmured. "Yes, well, that's why I'm here. Trying to keep busy."

Not sure what to say, Lexa just squeezed her arm.

Eventually Abby found her gaze again. Her eyes were watery, tone quavery and wistful. "You know...I always thought you two had a special bond." Lexa swallowed hard. "I never did understand what could possibly have been so bad between you that she refused to speak to you ever again." She smiled sadly. "One would have thought you were responsible for Jake's death. But that's ridiculous of course."

Lexa's grip tightened on her arm. Great, now she had her thinking about Jake's funeral too. Way to go Lexa.

Finding a semblance of composure, Lexa loosened her hold and said, "The fight we had...it's complicated."

Clearly Abby was disappointed and confused by Lexa's continued reticence in coming clean about that incident. Clarke was dead. What did it matter now what they had fought about?

She swallowed again. "I wish I had tried harder to right it though."

Abby sighed. "So do I...she was so angry for a long time." She sighed again, her lip trembling. "I just wanted my happy little girl back."

And then without further warning, Abby began to cry, and Lexa nearly joined her. Instead, she embraced her, Abby crying softly on her shoulder. They remained that way for some time, until Lexa saw Clarke returning from her task. She passed the card back to Raven, who looked bored out of her mind, though a smile was still firmly and painfully planted.

Clarke stopped in her tracks when she noticed Lexa hugging her mother. She had expected them to be done already or moved to a different location. She definitely didn't want to think about the reason they were hugging for so long. In her mind, there was only one.

Not for the first time, she thought of just walking up to her and explaining what happened. The temptation was even stronger now than it had been in her condo. But it still wasn't safe for her to know the truth and involve her in this mess. Once Bellamy was good and dead though, all bets were off. She would reveal herself. Nothing and no one would convince her otherwise. Her mother had suffered enough.

If Lexa actually cared about her well being the way she claimed to, she would let her do that, no questions asked. What happened after that, she wasn't sure.

She stared at Lexa, who stared back at her.

Clarke wasn't sure about a lot of things.

* * *

 **Okay so now we're getting into the last leg of this three legged race. In other words, shit's about to go down.**


	19. Chapter 19

With the SUX and a needle safely stowed away in her backpack, they huddled a short distance outside of the hospital, discussing their next move. Their continual issue: how to get close to Bellamy. How to even find him. According to Costia, he had been at Lexa's place, but the likelihood of him still being there wouldn't be high anymore. In either scenario. Either he let her go to follow her to find them (in which case he could very possibly be watching them right now), or she escaped (less likely but still possible) and that's how she ended up at the 100th precinct after being brainwashed. In which case he probably realized she was missing by this point in time and would be out on the hunt for her.

"I still think we should go talk with Finn," offered Lexa. "It'll be a risk, but at this point, we can't really help but to take one."

Raven, who was sitting on a bench so as to have access to her laptop, spoke. "The other problem with that move is that the morgue might still be guarded. They've had cops stationed there since the autopsy began this afternoon to prevent anymore bodies from going missing in this case."

Clarke was confused. "They _didn't_ do the autopsy until the afternoon? But they said it was a suicide this morning!"

"Yeah, well, I guess they had to say _something_ so they went with the most likely explanation. Anyway, by now I'm pretty sure the autopsy's been concluded, and I'm pretty sure they're still going to rule it a suicide. Give me a moment to double check though," she added, typing something into her keyboard. After about a minute she said, "Yeah, the coroner's report is corroborating whatever the initial report said."

"So, we just wait for the police to leave," said Lexa, "and then it should be easy enough to get access."

Raven shook her head. "That'd be a negative too. It says here that once the body's officially released, it's being sent to the crematorium. Someone's scheduled to come pick it up at nine tonight."

"Tonight?" said Lexa, eyebrow raised. "That's awfully fast."

"And besides that, this doesn't make any sense," said Clarke, further confused. "Finn hated fire. He had a fear of it ever since he burned himself pretty badly as a child. There's no way his family would have requested something like that."

"But if they think he's a murderer who also committed suicide," said Raven, "maybe they would disrespect his last wishes. Are they super religious?"

"Unless they converted in the last year, not at all," said Clarke.

"Did Bellamy know this?" asked Lexa. "That Finn hated fire?"

Clarke thought for a moment. "They weren't well acquainted. They only met a handful of times and not for very long each time." She bit her lower lip and chewed on it for a few seconds. "But I do recall that Finn flat out refused to go to a bonfire on the beach last summer. And I'm not sure but Octavia _might_ have mentioned to Bellamy why he didn't come." She shrugged. "I was pretty wasted at the time."

"Let's just assume he knows," said Lexa.

"Which means this is a total trap," said Raven. "Just like we thought it would be."

"And going to a crematorium of all places to confront him is probably about the worst idea ever," added Clarke. "He would just have to chuck our bodies in when he's done with us. Problem solved."

They were all silent for a while as they considered that morbid possibility. Then Raven said, "Well, we just have to make sure we _don't_ go there then. Hear me out..."

* * *

From being brainwashed to getting hit in the head, Costia was still fairly out of it. It was a bit difficult to get her to pay attention. Lexa was forced to pinch her arm.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. Then she focused on Lexa's face as if she hadn't been sitting there for the past two minutes. "Lexa?"

Lexa took her hand. "Costia, this is important. I need you to listen to me. Can you do that for me?"

Costia nodded emphatically, then winced as the movement jostled the bandaging over her head wound and stitches.

"You can't say anything about the man who took you hostage," she said in an undertone to avoid being overheard by anyone else in the crowded place. "You can't even say that happened to you. It's for your own safety."

"What's going _on_?" complained Costia. Normally she'd do anything for Lexa but after what she went through, after everything, she was just so tired of being kept in the dark, and she wasn't sure she wanted to comply. "If you want me to keep quiet, Lexa, I want answers. I deserve them."

"You do," conceded Lexa with a dip of her head. "And I'll explain everything to you...but not just yet."

Costia grabbed her arm, scowling at her. "That's not good enough, Lexa. I want answers _now_."

"I'm sorry, Costia," said Lexa, "but I can't do that. There's something I have to do first. So that you'll be safe."

Costia suddenly felt more awake than she had in hours. "Lexa, you're scaring me...you'll be okay, right?"

She hesitated a bit too long so Costia squeezed her hand roughly. " _Lexa_."

"Yes, I'll be fine, Costia. We all will be." Lexa cocked her head in the direction of a security guard standing nearby. "I've made an arrangement with the head of the hospital to keep you under constant surveillance. But I still need you to remain alert and scream your head off if that man shows himself. I can't stress how important that is."

"How did you manage something like that?" asked Costia, sincerely lost. "If no one knows what really happened to me?"

"Suffice it to say," she said, glancing at Clarke out of the side of her eye, "I have some connections here."

Even though Costia made her uncomfortable from time to time with her advances, they were friends and colleagues, and she didn't want to see her get hurt again...or worse. She needed to do something drastic to make sure Costia didn't say a word about Bellamy, that the thought never even crossed her mind. So she kissed her softly. Not on the forehead. But on the lips.

When she pulled back, Costia stared at her in awe and Lexa smiled slightly. She squeezed her hand. "Get some rest now. And remember what I said. Not a word."

Costia nodded dumbly in response, still with her mouth hanging open.

As she stood up, she saw Clarke storming off. Lexa sighed and headed after her. Once outside of the hospital, Clarke whirled on her.

"What the hell was that?!" she demanded.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?" said Raven, who had been leaning against the wall, waiting for them.

"Lexa kissed Costia!" yelled Clarke.

Raven looked at Lexa, stunned. For once she was at a loss for words.

"It's no big deal, Clarke," assured Lexa calmly.

"NO BIG DEAL?!" exploded Clarke so loudly that everyone outside of the hospital currently turned their heads. "WE'RE _GIRLFRIENDS_! THAT'S WHAT YOU SAID! AND YOU DID IT RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME TOO!"

"Yes," said Lexa, still calmly, taking her by the arm and turning her away from the watchers, "and _why_ do you think I did that, Clarke? I'm not going to keep secrets from you. Ever."

Clarke yanked her arm away from Lexa. "OH WELL THAT MAKES IT _ALL_ BETTER THEN! AS LONG AS YOU DO IT IN FRONT OF ME, YOU CAN KISS _WHOEVER_ YOU WANT! MIGHT AS WELL KISS RAVEN WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!"

Raven just stood there, wishing she could blow something up to get them to stop fighting. They had more important things to do.

Lexa huffed in annoyance. Clarke was blowing this way out of proportion. She knew she wouldn't be happy, but she hadn't expected such a volatile reaction. Perhaps that had been naive based on Clarke's jealous nature and their own issues in that arena.

"I only did that as an incentive for her to keep quiet about what happened to her. She was clearly on the fence. I needed to seal the deal."

She cringed at her own wording the moment it left her lips. Lexa was so not smooth when it came to handling people, that's yet another reason why she mostly avoided them, with the exception of her store of course. Generally she had Costia deal with the particularly rude and unreasonably demanding customers.

They had drawn far too much attention as it was. Clarke looked like she was about to jet off into space, so Raven diffused the situation the only way she knew how. She walked over to Clarke, grabbed her face, and kissed her, hard.

Both Clarke and Lexa gaped at her in shock. "There, now you're even," she said nonchalantly. "So can we wrap this up already and get on with our mission? There's only a few hours before nine. We need to get our asses into high gear if we're going to set this up in time."

Clarke grumbled something non-committal, refusing to even look at Lexa, who simply nodded.

And then they were off.

* * *

About a block from the morgue, when the light turned red, Raven ran up to the drivers side of the crematorium van and held it up. In the case that the driver was Bellamy himself, she was supposed to simply take the shot and forget about the mess they'd have to deal with after the fact.

However, the driver was not Bellamy, so she instead gestured with her M9 for the man to step out of the vehicle. Once he was out, she pistol whipped him and stole his phone so that he couldn't immediately call the police. Seated, she popped the back lock and Clarke and Lexa hopped in on either side of the body bag, slamming the doors in unison. After they were through the light, Raven took them a short distance and then shot into an alleyway.

They jumped out of the van. Clarke and Lexa hefted the body bag into another van they had previously jacked (this one black, instead of white) while Raven reclaimed the drivers seat. Underway again, they pulled off their clown masks courtesy of a local dollar store. To sit more comfortably and stably in the rocking van, Clarke pulled her gun out of her pants and placed it by his feet.

Lexa unzipped the top of the body bag and allowed Clarke some time to just stare at him before she said, "Ready?"

As had been the case since the hospital, Clarke would barely make eye contact with her. "Do it."

Permission granted, Lexa took off one of her gloves and touched Finn's check with her index finger, doing her best to not shiver at the ice cold sensation of his skin. Finn promptly shot up into a sitting position, still zipped in at the waist. Wouldn't have been the first time a body had tried to take off running immediately after being brought back. This was yet another reason Clarke had put her gun in easy reach of her left hand.

Finn instead opted for screaming. There was a lot of that going on today. Lexa imagined the piercing sound to be something akin to a banshee, fit to wake the dead...or rather, other dead people.

"Would you shut him the fuck up?!" demanded Raven from the front seat. "I'm trying to drive here!"

"Finn!" shouted Clarke, grabbing his attention. "Be quiet!"

He looked at her like she were a ghost. Understandable reaction really. "Clarke?! I thought you were dead?! I thought _I_ was dead?! What the hell's going on?!" Then a thought seemed to cross his mind and in a more normal tone said, "Is this Heaven?"

"No, this is not heaven," she said sharply. "Now pay attention. We don't have a lot of time." Finn more or less calmed himself down, still completely oblivious to Lexa's presence. That was fine with her. "Before Bellamy killed you, did he say anything to you?"

"How did you kn-"

"Just answer the question, Finn."

"No, he didn't say anything to me. That bastard just stuck me with something so I couldn't move and then gave me a creepy smile as I bled out!"

So, after all that, he never actually gave Finn a message to give to them. Not that this was a total waste of time or anything. That wasn't the only reason for this final conversation. It was also about closure.

"I just wanted you to know, you didn't kill me," said Clarke, increasing the speed of her speech. "I know you probably started to doubt yourself towards the end there...but it was Bellamy. He killed both of us and he's killed countless others. We're going to stop him tonight once and for all." She took a breath. "And I'm sorry...for getting you killed."

Finn looked at her in surprise. "That's got to be the first time I ever heard you apologize." He gave her a smarmy smile, brushing his floppy hair to the side. "Hey, do you think once you've killed that dick weed, that we," he gestured between them, "could maybe give us another shot?" He held his hands out, palms up for a second, exposing the deep vertical gashes along his wrists. "And yeah, I know you got a restraining order against me and lets face it, I deserved that, but don't you think we could put that all behind us?" He put a strand of loose hair behind Clarke's ear. "We've been through so much-

Lexa couldn't believe Clarke had ever been interested in him in the slightest. She also couldn't take any more of this conversation so she bopped him in the forehead and he immediately went limp and dead again.

"Was that even _close_ to a minute?" asked Clarke a little heatedly as Lexa pulled her glove back on.

"He didn't have any pertinent information," said Lexa unconcernedly. "Or anything logical to say. It wasn't necessary to risk it right up to the last second." She hazarded a glance at Clarke who was finally making eye contact. "Or would you rather I had put Raven's life on the line _again_?"

Clarke crossed her arms grumbling to herself. Whatever she was about to say was lost in an explosion of sound and confusion. Unrestrained in any manner, Lexa and Clarke went flying into the side of the same wall of the van, just narrowly avoiding colliding with one another. Blinding lights burst into Lexa's vision as her head knocked against the wall. Her ears started to ring and everything seemed to be moving in slow, distorted motion. Before they had a chance to really comprehend what had just happened, the t-boned van started to tip onto the opposite side of impact. Clarke was trying to focus on getting to her gun, which had been thrown on the other side of Lexa's sprawled body, and was sliding closer and closer to the roof as they tipped.

As if from a distance Lexa heard a gun go off multiple times, and then silence. She tried to will herself to move towards the front of the van, but it was as if her limbs were fashioned of stone. Then she realized that Finn's body was pinning her legs down, so she pushed with all her might to move it, but it wouldn't budge. Blood dripped into her eye, stinging. The back door, now on its side, parted.

The dark torso of a man was the last thing Lexa saw before she blacked out.

* * *

When she next came to, it was bleary eyed, head pounding and strapped upright by a chain bound around her wrists. Before her was Clarke and Raven, also suspended in the same manner. As far as she could see, there was nothing else in this mostly dark room besides them. It was practically sterile. That didn't seem to bode well for them.

When her eyes connected with Clarke's, Clarke exclaimed, "Oh thank God! I wasn't sure you were going to wake up."

"Clarke?" she groaned, wishing she could touch her head but unable to. She blinked a few times in an attempt to focus on Clarke's face better. "Where are we?"  
"I don't know," said Clarke, a slight quaver to her voice, "but that's the least of our concerns right now." She gave a vicious tug to her restraints. "We have to get out of here before he comes back."

"I'm trying, I'm trying," slurred Raven as she yanked on the chain above her. She didn't look much better than Lexa felt. There was a noticeable bump on the side of her head, which was either from the car crash itself or from Bellamy hitting her, Lexa couldn't say. She was relieved to see her breathing. After those gun shots went off, she'd thought the worst.

Wherever they were, Bellamy clearly didn't have any concerns about them screaming for help. It must be an isolated or sound proofed room then. This definitely didn't bode well for them. Lexa attempted to yank on her own chains but only succeeded in hurting her arms and wrists further. Judging by how sore they were already, she had been dangling by them for some time.

"How did this happen?" she asked.

They had been so careful, even going so far as to switch the morgue van out to make sure there was no possibility of being tracked for the brief heist.

"He must have been tracking us after all," said Raven, as she and Clarke continued to futilely yank on their chains. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Then why didn't he make a move earlier?" asked Lexa. "Stopped us before we got out of hand?"

"Maybe he wanted to toy with us a bit first," replied Raven. "Play with his food."

A random thought occurred to Lexa. "What if Bellamy got that kid to bump into me on purpose...not to plant anything on me, but to focus our attention on me? So that we wouldn't search further?"

Raven stilled for a moment and then said, "Fuck. You're probably right."

"But then," said Clarke with a grunt, still determinedly pulling away, " _when_ would Bellamy have planted something on you or I, Raven? He hasn't gotten close...until now."

Raven swore again, this time in Spanish. "I could've sworn no one followed me to Grounders. I didn't see anyone. And that's because I was already bugged! I never considered it because it didn't seem possible...but Blake must have managed to override my security protocols and plant a tracker on something of mine while I was taking a bath that night." She glanced at Clarke. "If that's the case, you weren't kidding, Clarke. This guys wicked smart."

Lexa just realized that Raven's brace had been removed. Perhaps Bellamy had thought she might be able to figure out a way to use it to escape. Or perhaps he just didn't want her to be able to run if she did figure a way out. Or...

"The tracker," said Lexa. "I think it was on your brace, Raven."

"Very good," said a voice from the shadows. That startled all of them, and if they had been able to jump, they would have. A bright light suddenly switched on, practically blinding them, making the various head injuries from the crash even worse.

Bellamy looked pretty much exactly like his profile picture on Facebook. Except here he wasn't smiling in the least. If he hadn't been a serial killer, a number of women would have likely considered him a catch. She might have been super gay but even she could tell that he was handsome for a man. What really stood out to her though was his clothing, specifically, her father's leather jacket, complete with harmonica.

A slight flash of something crossed his eyes and he held his arms out and said, "What do you think? Does it suit me?" He took the harmonica out and blew into a bit tunelessly, tainting it. "I'll have to hold on to this for sure. I clearly need some practice."

He walked over to her, seemingly ignoring Clarke and Raven. Just this proximity to him made her uncomfortable. The feeling magnified ten fold when he grabbed her chin and yanked it upward. For one second she thought he was going to kiss her.

"Don't you dare touch her, you bastard!" exclaimed Clarke, trying to reach out far enough to kick him. All she accomplished was twisting herself around the chain even more.

"Lexa Woods," he said, staring at her with cold, ruthless eyes. Eyes that had watched many people die. That had delighted in the sight. "What makes you so special, I wonder? Should I cut you open to find out?"

"I'll kill you if you even try!" yelled Clarke, struggling heroically with her restraints. Lexa wished she'd stop. She was going to do herself further injury. Then again, did that even matter if they were all about to die?

Bellamy let her chin go finally and the strain in her neck dissipated. He turned to face Clarke. "I think that ships already sailed. You should have killed me when you had the chance. But you squandered your time out of fear, and now you're going to watch her die. Slowly." Before both Clarke and Raven unleashed a string of verbal abuse at him, he added, "Or you could grant her a swift death by getting your Trikru friends to let Octavia go."

That caught them all by surprise. It was beginning to make sense why Bellamy had thrown caution to the wind and put himself at risk of exposure capturing them the way he did. He was angry. He didn't look it, but he must have been furious.

Clarke glared at Raven. "Raven, what the _hell_ did you do?!"

"Nothing!" said Raven. "I didn't do anything!" She thought for a second. "Okay, well, maybe just _maybe_ I might have mentioned his sister to Anya as a way to get to him...but I definitely told her _not_ to do that!"

Raven was angry too. But mostly disappointed. In herself. Once again she had let Anya ruin her life.

"You _told_ her about all of this?!" screamed Clarke, absolutely seething. "What part of _don't_ involve anyone else didn't you understand!? She's a fucking criminal! Why the fuck did you think you could _trust_ her?! If she hurts Octavia, so help me God-"

"Shut up," said Bellamy in a commanding voice. They shut up. He took a phone out of his pants pocket. He looked to Raven. "Call your girlfriend and convince her to release my sister."

"How do you even know it's her?" asked Raven weakly. "Anyone could have-"

"Call her or I'll start cutting into your friend."

"A bit difficult to do that with my hands literally tied up," said Raven sarcastically. Lexa was expecting her to get slapped but thankfully that didn't happen.

Impassively, Bellamy pressed redial and the phone began to ring on speakerphone. The name was listed as unknown, but Raven recognized the number all right. Fucking Anya. Getting her killed. It was so fucking unfair. Now she was _really_ regretting letting Anya repeatedly fuck her last night.

Finally the line picked up. "Are you ready to turn yourself over and face Trikru justice?"

So that's what this was about? Bellamy had killed one (or more) of their own and now Anya wanted him to suffer for his sins. Never fucking mind that they hadn't exactly agreed on kidnapping someone in order to achieve this goal. Didn't she know that was only going to piss him off? That he wasn't an idiot and wouldn't just hand himself over?

Raven was fuming when she barked, "He's about the farthest thing from doing that, you fucking bitch!"

There was silence on the line for a few beats. "Raven?"

"Yes, it's fucking me! Thanks for fucking us over! I _really_ appreciate dangling from my fucking wrists!"

Another pause and then, "You're going to release her, Bellamy Blake," said Anya with a clearly controlled effort, "or I'm going to skin your sister alive."

"You better not, bitch!" said Clarke. She had been struggling so hard to free herself that blood was dripping down her wrists. "Or I'll-  
Bellamy's grip had tightened against the phone, but otherwise his expression hadn't changed. "My sister will remain unharmed or I will come over there and slaughter you all."

"We seem to be at an impasse," said Anya. "I will not release her until you have released Raven into my custody. Alive and well."

"Yeah, thanks for the concern," grumbled Clarke.

"I don't make compromises," said Bellamy. For the first time his anger was seeping throw the surface. It was one human emotion he was capable of genuinely expressing. "You either let Octavia go right now, or you'll never see Raven alive again. You'll never even find the _body_ once I'm done with her."

There was silence for a long time and then, "I'm going to enjoy listening to her cries of pain. It will be a slow, agonizing death. I think I'll record it and send it to you along with her head."

Bellamy looked close to smashing his phone against the wall. "Fine," he snapped, through gritted teeth. "Meet me at Wexler Cemetery in half an hour."

Bellamy ended the call and then left the room. He came back shortly with a familiar looking bottle and needle in hand. The bottle was cracked from the collision and had spilled some of its contents, but there was still plenty enough for a healthy dose.

"No, what are you doing?!" complained Clarke. "She agreed to let Octavia go!"

Ignoring her, Bellamy unconcernedly went about filling up the needle with the SUX. He stuck the tip of the needle into Lexa's neck.

"Don't do this!" shouted both Raven and Clarke in desperation, knowing it was hopeless. He was never going to have let them go, no matter what. They were always dead the second he got his hands on them.

"Don't worry, Clarke," said Bellamy as he pressed the plunger down, "you'll be joining her soon enough."

* * *

 **Sorry/Not Sorry to leave it there**.


	20. Chapter 20

Once in the bloodstream, SUX traveled to all of a persons skeletal muscles and attached to nicotinic receptors. There it mimicked the neurotransmitter acetylcholine, whereby all skeletal muscles became depolarized to the point where further stimulation was impossible. Or in layman's terms, it paralyzed you completely. You couldn't even blink, let alone breath. Without an artificial breathing aid, you were generally done for within five to ten minutes. By that point, even if you were revived, you'd most likely have suffered irreversible brain damage from lack of oxygen, and be a vegetable for the rest of your probably short life.

Bellamy gave Lexa a hundred milligram's of SUX, which was more than someone of her size and weight actually needed to relax her muscles. Which meant, she had less than twenty seconds before the drug took full effect and Lexa stopped breathing. She was so focused on Lexa and attempting to literally break free from her chains, that she barely even registered Raven being dragged away by her own.

It was terrifying knowing the end was near. Lexa could feel her body seizing up, the drug clawing from her facial muscles and downwards into her torso, soon enough reaching her diaphragm. The only thing left to her was to stare, to make eye contact with the one thing she held dearest in this world. She desperately tried to take a breath, but nothing happened, her body was now completely unresponsive. Clarke's eyes were the bluest she had ever seen as the lack of oxygen started to make her head swim, and she teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. Lexa wanted to tell her not to cry, wanted to tell her so many things, but time had finally run out for her, and she drifted into the abyss.

Adrenaline pumping at an all time high, and with a Herculean effort, Clarke finally managed to pull her hands free of the chains. Skin was torn off in various places, a few fingers likely sprained or broken, but she felt none of the hurt yet. She dashed over to the lock on the ground that was keeping Lexa suspended, pulling on it frantically. Without a key or something to hit it with, it was hopeless, so she rammed her shoulder into the door, over and over again until it finally gave way. Here in this equally sterile environment, she scanned the darkened room for anything of use. There was a locked metal cabinet, presumably housing various weapons and other tools that Bellamy used for his extracurricular activities, but not much else. Then she noticed a glint of metal on a table. She scrambled over to snatch up her gun, then rushed back into the captivity room, aimed at the lock and fired.

Lexa's equally limp and rigid body immediately collapsed into the ground. Clarke dropped her gun as she fell to her knees. Since SUX only affected skeletal muscles, Lexa didn't need CPR, her heart would still be pumping; unless of course, she was totally brain dead, but Clarke didn't want to think about that possibility since there was nothing she could do about that. The problem here was simply that Lexa's diaphragm wasn't contracting, allowing her lungs to expand. All she had to do was get air into Lexa and keep supplying it until the paralysis wore off, which, well, Clarke didn't really know when that would be, or how long Lexa had already been without oxygen.

The problem of course was, how the hell was she supposed to provide a continuous supply of oxygen when making direct contact with Lexa's lips would kill herself, ensuring that they both died here?

Then she remembered the piece of saran wrap that she still had in her pocket. This she extracted, placed over Lexa's mouth and poked a hole in the middle. Then she pinched Lexa's nose closed and breathed. She continued to breathe deeply and methodically into her mouth for another thirty seconds, waiting for Lexa to open her eyes, to let her know this was actually working.

"Come on, come on!" she muttered desperately after another minute. "Wake up!"

Even when it became apparent that her efforts were for naught, she kept on going. She couldn't stop herself. She kept on going until she was so winded that she could barely take a breath herself.

In a state of despair, she collapsed onto Lexa's chest, sobbing uncontrollably. This agony in her own chest was unbearable. She couldn't keep living if Lexa wasn't there with her. So just like in the final scene out of Romeo and Juliet, she kissed her. No barriers, just lips to lips, the way she had dreamed of so many times in the last few days. The way their morgue reunion was supposed to end. However, unlike that Shakespearean tragedy, nothing happened. Clarke kissed her over and over again, waiting for Lexa's gift to take her too. But it was not to be. Her gift must have been entwined with her life force, and once that ceased to exist, her power ceased to function.

Tears stopping abruptly, she looked to her gun. She picked it up and studied it in fascination. There were plenty of bullets left. All it would take is one. She put the gun to her head. Then closed her eyes, imagining Lexa's face full of life...and love. She wanted that to be the last image she took with her. Her finger twitched on the trigger, all she had to do was apply a bit of pressure. It would be so easy to stop this pain. So easy...

Which is precisely why she didn't do it. Clarke never took the easy way out of anything. No matter how much she wanted to in this moment, she would not give in. She would instead find Bellamy and make him pay. And if it cost her her life in the process, so be it.

* * *

Wexler Cemetery was situated within a three mile radius of the storage unit complex Bellamy specially outfitted for his extracurricular activities. Therefore, with a vehicle at his disposal, it wouldn't take very long to get there, which gave him enough time to ensure his continued survival. Or so he thought.

Like most people, cemetery's gave Raven the creeps, especially at night. Especially at night when her own life was on the line. From all the movies she had watched, these sorts of transactions never went smoothly. Probably half of them ended in bloodshed on either side. Sometimes everyone died, even the hero. Though that generally didn't happen to the good guys. But who exactly _were_ the good guys in this scenario?

Anya had come dressed in full war paint and 'armour', her sword at her hip, her expression stony and unreadable. Beside her stood a bound woman with a brown bag over her head. On either side of them stood Dekk, Ryder and the machete guard. Dekk and Ryder were armed with crossbows tonight. How...charming.

Bellamy kept Raven close, a firm grip on the chains still biting into her wrists. He was wearing his police issued bullet proof vest, sans the tag that read 'police'. And he appeared to be unarmed, but only a simpleton would believe that. Anya knew he had something up his sleeve. She just wasn't sure quite what yet. If Raven had any idea, she couldn't tell her, as her mouth was gagged. Even if she weren't, Anya doubted she would be inclined to help her out. Once again, she had screwed up any chance of a relationship with the woman who had haunted her dreams for the past fifteen years. All for the sake of duty and honour...and revenge.

Surprisingly Raven made some muffled sounds. In response, Bellamy yanked on the chain, as if she were a bad dog who was misbehaving. Her wrists were already so raw that she groaned in pain, stumbling in place. Anya's grip tightened against the pommel of her sword.

"I told you to keep her unharmed," she said in steely tones of repressed anger.

"Take the bag off," he said, ignoring her.

Anya tilted her head towards Clarissa, who pulled the bag off, revealing the woman they had taken hostage mere hours ago while her husband was on call. She was an attractive woman, as all the women she had met recently had been. It would have been a shame to mar her beautiful skin.

Octavia was likewise gagged and she made noises when she saw her brother before her. She had no idea what was going on. Her best guess was that he had pissed the wrong sort off during one of his cases and they were seeking revenge. Though, why he would have his own hostage and no backup, she wasn't quite sure. It had been a very confusing night so far.

"On the count of three, we'll release our prisoners," said Anya. She counted down and on the third beat, Clarissa pushed Octavia forward. As did Bellamy with Raven. Except in his case, he held on to her chains as she stepped forward, her brace back in place.

"What are you doing?" questioned Anya. "Release her."

Dekk and Ryder pointed the crossbows at Bellamy, and Octavia's back, respectively. Bellamy raised his hands in surrender, the chain falling to the ground and trailing through the dirt. Never once taking his eyes off of his adversaries, he pulled out a knife and cut Octavia's restraints. She yanked out her gag and was about to throw herself into his arms when he said, "Go to the car, Octavia. I'll be there shortly."

Sounds of indignation and refusal emanated from his sister, one of the few things she did that annoyed him. Still, she was one of the least annoying humans he had ever met, with the exception of perhaps Lincoln. It had always baffled him how they could make friends with such a nosy person like Clarke. That was neither here nor there. She would be dead (again) soon enough and with a few more lies, his life would go back to normal.

"No," said Anya. "She stays here too."

Having slightly delayed Raven's approach, she had only just reached them. Clarissa removed the chains and gag and Raven yelled, "Bomb! There's a bomb!"

"Where?" said Anya sharply, eyes scanning the multitude of tombstones surrounding them.

"On me!" exclaimed Raven. "My brace!"

Raven finally had the opportunity to make something go boom. The only problem was, it was herself. And she was pretty fond of herself, thank you very much.

Anya ordered Clarissa to remove it but Bellamy stopped them by holding open his hand, a pulse triggered detonator attached. "Not so fast. If you do that, she blows you all to Kingdom Come. If you try to move, you die. If you kill Octavia or I, the same happens."

Bellamy had purposely come to a stop behind a tombstone, his lower body shielded just as much as his upper. The only way to take him down was a head shot, thereby killing them all.

"Bellamy, what the hell are you doing?!" demanded Octavia, beyond bewildered and frightened. This was so unlike her brother. Yeah, he could be intense and distant sometimes but this was a whole new side of him she'd never seen before. And yet, there was something familiar about his expression, something that she couldn't quite grasp.

"Now," said Bellamy calmly, satisfied to have a semblance of control over the situation again, "tell your people to lower their weapons and toss them aside."

Two could play hardball. "Disarm this bomb or I'll tell Octavia your dirty little secret."

"Go ahead and play your mind games. She won't believe your lies. You're just delaying the inevitable."

Anya just stared him down and in an unfeeling voice said, "Octavia, your brother is The Phantom Killer."

Having no idea how to process that information she simply stood there with her mouth open. She was lying, right? She had to be. They already had the guy. Besides, it didn't make any sense. There's no way her brother could be that monster. No way...

A nearly forgotten memory came back to her. Their dad had been an alcoholic loser who disappeared within four years of her birth. Bellamy had been eleven. Their mother struggled to support them. They didn't always have enough to eat. Bellamy helped out the best he could, laying traps for animals in the surrounding woods. She had caught him once, splattered in blood, butchering squirrels and rabbits far beyond actual use. But she had been so young that she had forgotten, had purposely blocked out the horrifying visual. Occasionally it came to her in dreams, but she had never suspected that it had actually been real. Up until right now that is.

And did that mean... "Did you kill our father?" she choked out, mind reeling.

Rather than respond, Bellamy grit his teeth together and said, "That was the _last_ mistake you'll ever ma-"

Before Bellamy could press the button, before even Dekk and Ryder could react, a gunshot rang out from behind. He snarled in surprise and pain as his trigger arm fell limp to his side, the bullet going straight through his rotator cuff, effectively disabling him. Another shot was fired almost immediately, this one impacting the calf muscle of his right leg. He staggered forward into the tombstone. Blood poured out of both wounds, the pain forcing him to his knees, but also completely shielding him from a frontal assault.

When he attempted to press the button yet again with his functioning arm, Octavia snapped into action, stepping on his hand before he could lift it too far off the ground. In the few seconds since the gun had gone off, Anya had ordered her people to deal with him but keep him alive and then turned her attention to Raven.

"Tell me what to do," said Anya urgently.

Raven shook her head. "I can't. Not unless you describe it to me. Which you can't do since it's _underneath_ my brace...and removing it could prove fatal. But if I can get a look at the triggering device, maybe-"

"Come along then," said Anya insistently, grabbing her hand.

The other Trikru members dealt with Bellamy by knocking him out with a swift punch or two. He was still profusely bleeding out though from his calf wound. Judging by where she shot him, she assumed she accidentally lacerated the anterior tibial artery. Hell, she was surprised she had managed to hit him at all, considering. Apparently she was a born marksman, go figure.

It wouldn't kill him right away - she hadn't been dumb enough to aim at his thigh and risk hitting the femoral artery – but she couldn't risk the bomb being triggered by critically low blood pressure either, so she had no choice but to reveal herself to Octavia, and much more loathsome, save her brother.

"Clarke?" said Octavia wide eyed as she stepped out from behind her hiding place. "What...how...oh," she muttered, just before she fainted. Dekk caught her before she hit the ground. Clarke thanked him, then said, "You're doing that wrong," to Ryder, who was sloppily wrapping Bellamy's leg wound with strips of his own pant leg.

Though every fibre in her body screamed at her to shoot him in the head multiple times, she couldn't do it. Not yet. So instead, she undid Ryder's work and re-bandaged it securely, finally stemming the flow of blood.

By the time she was done, Raven was there, squatting down, taking a look at the triggering device still attached to Bellamy's hand. The wires went from his ring finger down his arm (under his shirt), along his shoulder and presumably secured over his heart.

"You're damn lucky you didn't hit that, Clarke," said Raven. "Or we all would've gone boom." She retrieved his knife from the front of his bullet proof vest. "I'm going to attempt to disarm this now. Everyone should clear out of here, just in case I screw up."

Anya nodded at her people to leave and to take Octavia with them. She, however, remained, as did Clarke.

"What are you guys doing? Get out of here!"

"I'm not going anywhere," said Clarke stubbornly. If she could've taken Raven's place, she would have, but as it was, solidarity would have to do.

"Just disable the bomb, Raven," ordered Anya.

"Don't be stupid! Get the fuck out of here!" She looked to Clarke. "I don't understand why-" A terrible thought just occurred to her. "Clarke...where's Lexa?"

Clarke bit her lip, willing herself not to cry. That was answer enough for Raven. "Fuck," said Raven, stunned. "I can't believe it."

"Forget about that now," said Anya insensitively, "and focus on the task at hand. Sacrifice is a consequence of war. And this was war."

Clarke had a strong urge to punch her in the face but Raven stood up and kept them apart with outstretched arms. "Please, just go."

Despite herself, Clarke nodded, turned around and walked over to the Trikru and Octavia, who were hopefully a safe distance away.

A couple minutes later Raven sat down on the edge of the tombstone and unstrapped her brace. "Hell yeah!" she shouted, holding up the bomb triumphantly and waving it around like a flag. "I still got it!"

Utterly relieved, Anya's lips quirked. "Perhaps you shouldn't do that until after you've inspected and removed the bomb."

"Fuck that," said Raven. "This brace is damn near busted and I've been dying to blow something up for ages." She glanced down at Bellamy, who was still out. "And we have to get rid of him anyway so..."

"No," said Anya, infuriating her. "He's mine."

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" demanded Raven. "You got my best friend killed and you expect me to just hand over the bastard that did it?!"

Anya tapped her fingers against the side of her sheath. "You're not the only one who lost someone important to you. The Phantom Killer took my mentors life, as well as several other Trikru over the years."

"Didn't you hear what I just said?! _You_ got my best friend killed! Not Bellamy! _YOU_!"

Raven knew she shared at least part of the blame in that regard - after all, she trusted a complete stranger who had already screwed her over once before – but she couldn't deal with the knowledge that she was culpable in Lexa's death, so she attempted to place all the blame on someone else.

She would have stood up and pushed her but she couldn't exactly do that at the moment. "We had a plan! We were handling it! But then you decided to go rogue with your own little operation, and NOW LEXA'S DEAD!"

"I'm sorry," said Anya, impassively, "but I won't bend on this. He will face Trikru justice and-"

A gun shot rang out right beside them and they jumped in surprise. They had been so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice Clarke's approach until it was too late. She had shot him in the head. He was definitely dead. Clarke supposed she should have felt something, anything, but she didn't.

"What have you done?" seethed Anya, reaching for her sword.

Clarke aimed the gun at her next, which prompted two crossbows to get pointed at her back.

Anya glared at her people. "Why didn't you stop her?"

Hearing a gunshot, Octavia had walked over and stared in disbelief at what Clarke had apparently just done. Part of her swirling mind was convinced she had simply ingested some spoiled meat from Taco Bell, and that was currently making her hallucinate this terror filled night. The other part couldn't cope with the possibility that this was somehow all real...so she promptly fainted again. This time no one caught her.

"Forgive us, Heda," said Dekk, "but we didn't realize she was going to do that."

"Clarke," said Raven cautiously, "put the gun down. Killing Anya won't change anything. I hate her guts too, but there's no way you'll get away with this."

Anya shook her head ever so slightly to her people to hold off. If the girl was going to shoot her, she already would have. Normally she would be punished for stealing Trikru justice away from them. However, though it was unlikely that Anya could salvage her relationship with Raven at this point, killing yet another of her friends in cold blood would all but ensure this.

When that didn't seem to get through to her Raven changed tactics slightly. "I'm so sorry, Clarke. I know how much you meant to each other...but don't do this. Don't throw your life away. We haven't known each other for very long, but I've come to think of you as a friend. And I don't want to watch you die. So please just put the gun down."

For the first time, Clarke felt guilty about trying to kill herself. She had been given a second chance to be with her friends and family and she almost threw it all away again. Yes, it was going to hurt for a very long time, maybe forever, but Lexa gave her this gift, and she wasn't about to squander it.

A single tear trailed down her cheek. Clarke dropped the gun and expressionlessly said, "Make sure Octavia gets home safely." She swallowed. "I have somewhere to be."

"I don't think you should be alone right now," said Raven. "You should come back to my-"

Without another word, Clarke turned on her heel and left.

* * *

Numb in both body and mind, she arrived back at the sound proofed storage unit that they were being kept in, that many had doubtless lost their lives in. It would be difficult to see Lexa like that again, blue in the lips and lifeless, but Clarke had to be near her right now, to tell her all the things she never said.

Inside the room with chains, the light had been turned off. Clarke frowned. She had thought she had left it on. Then again, she hadn't exactly been in the clearest mindset when she headed to the cemetery. She still wasn't. Everything was kind of fuzzy and indistinct.

When she did turn the light on, she just stood there staring.

Lexa's body was gone.

That was something she definitely was sure of. Clarke hadn't exactly locked the place up before she left it, but still, what was the likelihood someone had come in here and stolen her body?

Apparently pretty high.

In place of her body, there was a note. Clarke hunched over and scooped it up, hands trembling as she took a closer look.

' _Come to the Trikru warehouse, N_.'

She was very confused at first. Then it hit her.

Clarke dropped the note and took off running.

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to get access to the Trikru headquarters. This was because there was someone waiting for her when she got to the side door that led directly into Anya's throne room. Hope exploded in her chest all at once. She observed them silently for a few moments, fascinated with taking in the person before her, that was at once familiar and a complete stranger to her.

"Clarke," greeted Nyanna. She didn't offer a hand, nor would Clarke have taken it.

"Where's Lexa?" was the first thing out of her breathless mouth. "Take me to her."

Nyanna's lips twitched, both amused and pleased with how single minded she was. From the little she had managed to observe of them in the past week together, this commanding, uncompromising nature wasn't unusual. In a lot of ways, they seemed to be polar opposites. Still, she couldn't help but to think that her daughter had chosen well.

"This way," said Nyanna, opening the side door and leading her in. They walked past Anya's throne room which was unoccupied.

They went along the same concrete hallway that led to the guest rooms. Rather than stop at their previous room, they continued on towards the end of the corridor, to Heda's chambers.

Inside were Anya, Raven, Vittoria, and on the bed...Lexa's body. Clarke didn't understand why Nyanna hadn't brought her back yet. A terrible thought occurred to her, what if she _couldn't_ bring her back? What if somehow her power faded away with age?

Or even worse; what if she were dreaming right now, and none of this was real? What if her brain just couldn't cope with Lexa's death, so it was creating an unlikely scenario in which she would be alive again?

Raven noticed her distress first and said, "It's okay, Clarke. Everything's going to be okay."

Rather than calm her, that freaked her out even more. That was exactly the sort of thing someone in a dream would say.

"How did you get here so fast?" she demanded of Raven and Anya. "I left before you did!"

Anya and Raven exchanged a look. Anya said, "I received a phone call from Vittoria shortly after you left. She told me that Nyanna had come here with her daughter. I ordered my people to deal with Bellamy's body. Octavia had awakened by this point in time and was rambling incoherently about the impossibility of you being alive and killing her brother. Raven explained the situation as best she could, allowing me to fully understand the details surrounding your miraculous recovery."

Anya gave her a look that told Clarke she had known all along who she had been. And honestly, she must have known who Lexa was too. Being Heda, it made sense that she would've been acquainted with one of the Trikru founders, and seen the photograph of Nyanna in Vittoria's home...and even learned Nyanna's story.

"Calmed down, we then drove Octavia home. We had a short conversation with her on the way, ensuring she wouldn't involve the police. Then we came here in order to make preparations for Lexa's return."

While that seemed plausible, Clarke whirled on Nyanna next. "I find it funny how the _one_ person that could bring Lexa back is suddenly here, when she was missing for the past twenty years!"

Nyanna cast her eyes down.

Raven came over to her and placed her hands on her shoulders. "Hey, hey, look at me. I know this is all a little bit strange...hell I didn't even _know_ her mother was alive let alone shared Lexa's ability...but Nyanna explained it. She's been keeping an eye on Lexa ever since the forever flowers fiasco. She would've intervened if I hadn't first. There's people out there that would've wanted to experiment on her."

Raven left out the part where she almost sold Lexa over to said people. Clarke ignored the guilty niggling reminding her that she _was_ said people.

"Fine job you did!" exclaimed Clarke. "You let your daughter die!"

Nyanna held herself up straighter. "I let my daughter live, free of this burden. At least, I attempted to do that. Had I known she had the curse as well-"

"Yeah, well, I guess that was difficult to know, you being a deadbeat mother and all!"

This time Nyanna flinched. "You're right of course. Which is why I'm here now. I've come to make amends for my many past failings. I've come to give you back your heart." She looked towards Lexa. " _Both_ of your hearts."

Clarke remembered then what Lexa had said, about the strange sensation in her chest that she believed signified her connection to her mother. All at once her expression softened.

"Did you feel it?" asked Clarke quietly. "When she died?"

 _Did you feel it the same way that I did? Did you feel like your whole world had ended?_

Nyanna simply nodded and that was enough for Clarke. For the time being they were copacetic.

"It's how I found her," said Nyanna, "and brought her here."

"Why did you?" wondered Clarke. It seemed like leaving Lexa there would have been a lot easy than transporting her all this way.

"The Trikru believe in mercy killings," said Vittoria, drawing her attention. Clarke had nearly forgotten she was there. "When people are suffering with no end in sight, we will take their lives." Vittoria stepped forward. "It's why I have offered myself as a sacrifice."

Clarke couldn't believe she had forgotten about that one small detail. That to imbue life again, another had to diminish. This was all her fault. If she hadn't been so hasty in killing Bellamy, they could have used him for the trade. Now yet another person had to die for her mistakes.

Before Clarke could protest, Vittoria raised her hand. "I have been slowly dying for some time now. And I'm getting on in years. Let me do this for an old friend, child."

At a loss for words, Clarke could only nod and mouth, "Thank you."

"All right then," said Nyanna to Raven and Anya, "you have to leave now."

"What about me?" asked Clarke.

"Just like me, you're immune to the proximity effect," informed Nyanna.

Right, thought Clarke. If that weren't the case, Lexa's forever flower business wouldn't have worked very well. And would rather have lessened the immortality claim.

"Now go you two. And make sure no one else comes within a hundred feet until I say so."

They nodded and started to leave the room. Raven squeezed her arm as she passed. "I'll see you soon...I'll see you _both_ soon."

When they were gone, Clarke took residence on the edge of the bed beside Lexa, grasping her gloved hand even though it hurt. Her hands had been throbbing non-stop since the adrenaline had worn off. She purposely positioned herself so as to be the first thing Lexa would see when she came to. Nyanna hugged Vittoria for a long time and then they both took a seat on the chairs set up on the opposite sides of the bed.

"Are you prepared?" said Nyanna as she slipped off her own set of gloves.

She took a deep breath, her heart was racing so. "Do it."

Nyanna stood over Lexa and then reached out and touched her cheek.

As usual, the effect was instantaneous. Except unlike Finn, she didn't shoot up into a sitting position. The colour simply returned to her face and lips, and her eyes opened slowly, as if from a dream.

Her body was at once exhausted and on fire, as if she had simultaneously run a marathon and had currents of electricity injected into her veins. The two conflicting sensations seemed to cancel each other out, so that she didn't notice any extreme discomfort. Lexa blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the dim candle light and the change in surroundings. They weren't wholly different. There Clarke was crying again. She noticed they were holding hands. She smiled. "You're very pretty when you cry, Clarke, but please don't feel you need to for my benefit."

Overcome with emotion, she simply cried all the harder. Lexa pursed her lips adorably, licking them. She made a funny face. "Why do my lips taste like watermelon?" She blinked at Clarke. "Haven't I seen _you_ use watermelon chapstick?" Her eyes bugged out of her head. _Now_ she shot up in place. "Clarke, can we _touch_ now?"

Clarke hadn't even thought about that. She was startled and thrilled by the possibility. When Lexa was dead her power was inactive, but had it gone away altogether? She looked to Nyanna who said, "As to that, I'm not sure. This is new territory for me."

Lexa's eyes bugged out of her head even more at the sight of someone that had long eluded her grasp. "Mom? What are you...oh." She turned to Clarke urgently. "You have to get out of here, Clarke! There isn't much time before-"

"It's okay, child," said Vittoria, "you needn't worry about that. My time's almost up."

Lexa stared at her in horror.

"Life is short..." Vittoria's eyes twinkled, "for most of us. As my final request, I ask that you give your mother another chance. Will you do that for me?"

Lexa nodded dumbly. "I will. And...I don't know how to thank you enough for this gift. I promise I won't squander it," she added, unknowingly echoing Clarke's own thoughts from earlier that night.

"See that you don't," replied Vittoria, "you're going to be living for a very long time."

Both Clarke and Lexa realized what she meant in tandem.

"You're immortal now, too!"

"I'm immortal now, too!"

It would be a whole new cruel twist of fate if they would now live forever but never be able to touch. Like having a long distance relationship with someone who was right in front of you. Forever. Absolutely maddening.

Nyanna held out her gloved hand, presenting them with a daisy. A wilted daisy. They looked at her. She shrugged. "Seemed appropriate."

Clarke grabbed it out of her hand, at which point Lexa exclaimed, "Clarke, your hands!"

"Forget about that now," said Clarke, finding herself short of breath again. If this actually worked, well...she hoped Anya didn't plan on sleeping any time soon.

With baited breath, she bopped Lexa on the nose with the flower, tickling her. Out of reflex, she laughed. Clarke pulled it away to hold it between their faces, and they saw that it hadn't sprung back into new life. They made eye contact for precisely one point six seconds before throwing themselves into each others arms. It was the greatest hug either of them had ever experienced, so much so that they wished they never had to let go.

It was such a good hug that neither of them even thought to kiss one another for an entire five point eight seconds. And when their lips did finally meet in a flurry of relief and exaltation, well, they could both safely say, that was actually the greatest thing they had ever experienced. Top five for sure.

They pulled apart briefly when they needed a breather, and as Lexa was taking off her gloves, she held Clarke's gaze and very seriously said, "Death cannot stop true love."

"Oh my God," snorted Clarke, hitting her on the shoulder, her heart exploding with love, "you are such a nerd. Now shut up and kiss me again."

Lexa cupped Clarke's face with her bare hands, reveling in the warm, smooth feel of her, and grinned. "As you wish."

* * *

 **I'm sorry but I'm a dramatic hoe at heart so it had to go down that way...**

 **Yeah, let's just forget about the fact that there's a dead body right beside them as they're making out. Lmao.**

 **I had an alternate idea for how Bellamy was supposed to die...it was supposed to be more dramatic/convoluted. In a different location and under different circumstances, Bellamy was going to be knocked out, same as here, but in place of Octavia was Nyanna, and Lexa was going to be there too. So Nyanna went about bringing Lexa back right then and there. Bellamy only feigned being unconscious so when the minute had nearly expired, he was going to grab Nyanna and hold on to her, to offset the proximity effect. Then he was going to run away before she could touch him again but Anya was going to appear out of nowhere and run him through with her sword and then decapitate him...to make sure he didn't come back again...but Bellamy couldn't have known how long he had since that's not something he could've observed earlier. I was kind of torn with not doing it this way, but I also kind of like this 'quieter' ending and the fact that Clarke got to do it.**

 **Okay, so Bryan Fuller never said how PD was supposed to end (at least that I could find) though he apparently had one idea in mind, that would take place decades later. Their relationship was the sort that 'goes on and on and that you fight for'. It sounded like they wouldn't be able to touch in all that time. Lame!**

 **He also said, 'We really felt that that story, ultimately, in the end, was about Chuck dying and getting her life back...' Now this was in reference to the premature end of the show and deciding on what to focus on. However, out of context, you could use that as the way their little problem gets resolved. So one theory about how that would happen would be she dies through an act of violence and then Ned touches her in his grief, and she comes back again. In essence, they tricked the 'system'. The second touch acts as the first normally would, and now his ability is negated where Chuck is concerned. She'd also stop being immortal in this scenario (maybe, I'm not clear on that).**

 **However, as you can see, I went a different direction, which was only possible because I gave more than one person 'the gift from no one in particular'.**

 **Anyway, I'll be forever salty that both of these shows were finished without proper endings. This sort of makes up for it for me, and I hope it does for you too.**

 **Now on to the epilogue. :)**


	21. Chapter 21

On a fine Spring day, Lexa made her way to the perpetually placid lake where Clarke was. The flowers had finally bloomed and Lexa wanted to give her a bouquet. The immortal daisies had been lost one by one, the final one some years back. How far back, Lexa couldn't quite say. Time moved differently these days, were a year seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye.

Still, there were bright spots from near the beginning of her life that had stayed with her throughout it all, and she thought about them now as she expertly played her father's harmonica single-handedly. (The fact that it had survived all this time further proved that they simply 'didn't make them like they used to').

There was the jubilation that followed Clarke revealing herself to her close friends and family in an impromptu gathering; sworn to secrecy in perpetuity.

The euphoria from when they first made love. Oh my, was that a moment she still recalled vividly; if only because she had cried during and after the fact.

Their small and intimate wedding ceremony in Arkadia Gardens, just as the sun was setting. Her heart had rarely been so full of adoration as it was in that everlasting moment.

Reconnecting with Abby, and being spoiled rotten, as if she were a child again. Their family trip to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter was spontaneous and magical.

Finally forgiving her mother and allowing her back into her life. Nyanna never seriously disappointed her again, Clarke made sure of it. Shortly after this forgiveness, Lexa and her mother acquired matching zentai suits so that they could hug from time to time. Not being one to be left out, Clarke soon after acquired her own, claiming she needed it while they remained in the city. The suit resembled one of Sporty Spice's most common outfits and consequently hardly ever left the bedroom.

Handing the keys to Grounders over to Costia. She had said a fond farewell to her and her girlfriend, Zoe Monroe, a local traffic cop that once pulled a bicycling Costia over for failure to stop at the designated signage. Their strict abidance of the letter of the law was the beginning of a long and loving relationship.

Providing shelter and love for a myriad of foster children and animals around the world. She had especially cherished the children in Australia and their unusual sayings. Fair suck of the sav!

The day Anya and Raven finally tied the knot, nearly a decade after their reunion. Raven was almost late as she was busy making last minute preparations for a massive fireworks display. Somehow or other too much gun powder had been used and the entire thing exploded in one fell swoop, nearly causing her Uncle Ramon's toupee to catch on fire.

Raven never did make them a sex suit, however, she did gift them with an interesting...contraption on their one year anniversary that they dubbed, 'The Pussinator'. They used it frequently until it broke down. Attempts to fix or duplicate it proved futile.

Though their love stayed intact throughout the ups and downs of every relationship, as time wore on, they occasionally found the other lacking when it came to the bedroom. And since variety was the spice of life, and they had eternal libido's that never lessened with age, they began inviting a woman (or two) that they both approved of to join them. To minimize Clarke's jealousy, the same woman never joined them twice. With this strategy they managed to avoid the dreaded 'lesbian bed death' that reportedly plagued so many couples.

The sense of deep satisfaction from finally mastering every modern Germanic language. Many had said it could not be done. Lexa was proud to prove them wrong. She couldn't remember much of any of them anymore, and some of them had certainly become extinct by now, but that was neither here nor there.

The list went on and on in flashes and feelings. It was both easier and not easier to remember more recent events as time sped by.

Four hundred and six years since their wedding, when they had explored the planet as thoroughly as anyone ever could, they obtained tickets for the maiden voyage of a space cruise across the Milky Way. The headline had read, 'The ultimate adventure for the ultimate adventurer.' They purchased the expensive tickets with the substantial fortune they had acquired over the centuries with their various careers, and aided by a lottery win. By then the key to (near) immortality had been discovered and it was common enough for Trillionaires to undergo the process, that no one thought twice about Clarke and Lexa's lack of aging.

Leaving the planet had been one of the toughest, most frightening and above all thrilling things they had ever done. For they both knew that once they left it, they could never come back, or at the very least, it would be so changed by the time they returned as to be unrecognizable.

In and out of stasis, and on and off of various habitable and terraformed planets alike - some of which had yet to be explored - they eventually came across other sentient lifeforms. No one on the cruise knew how to communicate with them, but the question, 'were we alone?' had finally been answered. There however, was no way to communicate this knowledge across thousands of light years of distance, so the people of Earth continued to remain in the dark.

One of their favourite and least favourite planets alike, had been one that smelled of cotton candy. Sweet at first, the pungent air soon soured, settling on their tongues and reminding them of Warheads. Several people began to feel faint and woozy, Lexa included. Afraid this could be a toxic response to their presence, the tour was short lived.

Though their physical bodies stayed intact over the centuries, their minds did not, and eventually they became so weary of the endless travel, that they decided to be dropped off permanently on the next planet that took their fancy.

The cruise director, an android by the name of Andromeda, gave them some parting gifts; a self repairing robotic catdog named Marvin, a nameless out of the box utility robot to help them get situated, and a communications robot that was fluent in every language, but due to a critical malfunction somewhere down the line, could only speak in broken English and Hungarian.

Unsurprisingly they chose a planet reminiscent of Earth, or at least, what they could remember of Earth. It was predominately populated by humanoid life forms that had no concept of age or aging...they just were. Rather unimaginatively, they christened their new home, 'Earth 2'.

Which brings us back to Lexa, who at this very moment was walking along the well worn path down to the lake with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

She tucked her harmonica in her breast pocket and knelt down in front of Clarke. "Hey, honey. I brought you some new flowers. Sorry it took so long. They don't grow very fast here and you know I can't exactly make them last forever anymore." She laughed softly, placing the flowers on top of Clarke's grave. "I can barely even remember what it was like to have that gift. Isn't that funny?" She paused for a moment as she sat down, cross legged. "Speaking of funny things, you won't _believe_ what Marvin got up to this time..."

They had peacefully remained on Earth 2 for many years until Clarke had an aneurysm and dropped dead. For Good.

The universe being what it was, took pity on Lexa, and allowed her to follow soon after, relatively speaking.

As she expired in a rare field of daisies - which were actually a symbiotic entity with the grass like substance - she looked up to the purple sky, to the infinite unknown – which had become decidedly less so in recent years – and smiled.

* * *

 **That got a bit Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy/Stardust there at the end, and admittedly I never imagined it would get quite so grand scale. I knew Lexa had to die pretty early on in order to lose her power and become immortal like Clarke. But I expected this to end at the Princess Bride/kiss reference. I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to do a little epilogue. One of my continuous struggles. Funnily enough the narrator is the same guy for both Pushing Daisies and HHGTTG. Haha, just kidding. :)**

 **I can't believe I killed them BOTH off twice in the span of this one fic. It may have spanned like a millennium but still, I definitely earned the 'major character death' label...literally everyone died by the end of it. :p**

 **In case you're wondering, yes, they did need to move somewhere else and create fake I.D.'s every fifteen-twenty years or so to throw off suspicion of their unusual 'constitution'. Raven forged the first ones, and then after that, they found someone else and so on and so on. But for the first fifteen years, Clarke was Clarke Woods. :)**

 **Also, Anya gave up her life of crime for Raven (or at least killing people). That was the condition for them getting married. Then they were morally gray together running their joined PI service.**

 **Anyway, I know that this ending likely wasn't quite what you were expecting but I hope that you enjoyed it all the same. Bittersweet endings ftw?  
**


End file.
